Heart of Stone
by deanstheman
Summary: A dream vacation? Yeah, right. He should have known it would turn deadly. After all, Winchesters were definitely more prone to nightmares. When Dean and Tasha disappear in Mexico, it's up to Sam and Cas to find them. (Story with OC from my Tasha series but can be read as stand-alone without reading the rest).
1. Dream Vacation

_**Summary:** After averting the Apocalypse, Dean's girlfriend convinces him to get away for a couple of weeks and go on a relaxing vacation in Mexico. Sounds nice, right? Wrong. A trip to a local Maya ruin lands them in the clutches of a dangerous creature from an obscure ancient legend. Will their mistake cost them their lives? Will Sam get to them in time? Or will he suffer an even worse fate in his efforts to save Dean?_

_**Warnings:** Dean and Tasha are a very physical couple (most fics in this series are rated 'M') but although they are still 'naughty' on this fic, anything graphic has been left offscreen and therefore the fic is rated T. There will be some references to sex and implied sex, probably a few swear words, and definitely some serious violence. SPOILERS for up to season 5 since this is set early S5 (in an AU version). **Update: ** Chapter 3 ended up being a little more mature than I had originally intended (not graphic or smutty, just a little more mature due to the predicament the characters are in) so I raised the rating on the story to 'M'. _

_**Author's Note:** You should be able to read this fic without reading any of the others in the Tasha series. Any relevant information on the OC (Tasha) will be woven in here as needed. This is planned as a fairly short, 4 or 5 chapter fic._

_Story dedicated in part to **supernatural only** whose recent request gave me the kick I needed to return to writing Tasha and finally start the fic about the vacation they mentioned going on in the end of Across the Bridge of Sighs. Thanks for the motivation!_

**~O~**

**HEART OF STONE**

**Chapter 1**

The rickety straw lounge chair protested quietly beneath Dean's weight as he laid back and let out a long sigh. Listening to the soothing roll of the waves and gentle rustle of wind in the palm trees was nice but he wondered how the Hell it could be this hot at eight o'clock in the morning. Despite being in the shade of the extended straw roof over the front entrance of their rental unit, he squeezed his eyes shut beneath his dark sunglasses and groaned at the headache hammering the inside of his skull. After a long, relaxing minute, he tipped his head up just enough to take another lazy sip of the warm El Sol bottle in his grasp.

And to think he had just been starting to enjoy Mexico.

They had been here five days. After averting the Apocalypse and successfully putting both Sam's soul and Cas's grace back where they belonged, Tasha had insisted Dean take some time off from saving the world and hunting and go on a vacation with her, just the two of them. And apparently her idea of a vacation differed drastically from his. It wasn't a research-free night of burgers and beer or catching a concert three states over. No, her idea of a vacation involved being transported by Cas to some remote little beach in the middle of Nowhere, Mexico.

Literally nowhere. The nearby town didn't even have a name.

He heard the door of their rented 'beach hut' open behind him with a squeak and a few seconds later, a slim, bare leg slid across his lap and Tasha came into view, grinning down at him as she straddled him on the beach chair. He grunted at the extra weight on his stomach, which was still rolling from last night's excursion, but managed a smile.

"Didn't you have enough of that last night?" she teased, throwing a questioning glance at the beer in his hand as she bent to kiss his forehead. "My lightweight gringo."

He snorted. "I was fine last night."

She jerked her chin to the right, gesturing to the ground just off the porch. "I'm pretty sure your mo-ped would disagree."

Dean arched an eyebrow and craned his neck to see what she was talking about. An embarrassed groan escaped him when he saw the banged up mess that was his rented mo-ped lying half under a bush. He vaguely remembered wiping out several times on their way back along the three-mile footpath between the town and the straw-roofed shack they had been renting. He did remember a lot of cursing (from him) and definitely a lot of giggling (from Tasha).

"You should know better than to drink and drive, mister," she chided, tapping his nose.

He gave her another snort in reply. "A mo-ped doesn't count as driving. And that was just 'cause it was dark. And that path's rough… and overgrown… and there's snakes."

She laughed. "Told ya we shoulda gone for the burros."

"I don't do donkeys."

"You and you Winchester pride." She leaned down again for another kiss, this one much slower, deeper, and on his mouth. He reciprocated, enjoying both the cool taste of mint toothpaste and the distraction from the discomforts of his hangover. When she eventually drew back, he opened his eyes to see her popping the cap on a bottle of sunscreen lotion.

"Shirt off," she grinned. "I wanna lube you up."

He laughed and wagged his eyebrows at her. "You make that sound so dirty."

She was already tugging at the hem of his t-shirt, her hips rocking lightly back and forth in his lap. "Oh, I plan on making it very dirty," she replied, her voice suddenly low and full of lusty promise. "I'll show you the best way to cure a hangover."

"You know, one of these days I'm gonna say no to you."

Her hand slid between them to palm the front of his jeans where a definite bulge was forming. "Something tells me that's not gonna be today."

He pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere to the ground before laying back down, arousal now waging an internal war with his hangover. "I'm not as young as I used to be, you know."

"Somebody forgot to tell Little Dean that," she purred, increasing the movements with her lower hand while the other lifted to squirt lotion on Dean's chest. "Apparently he still thinks he's a teenager."

**~O~**

Tasha had spent most of her childhood living off the grid in Mexico and South America, the daughter of a hunter and a woman whose family had been running from a two-thousand-year-old revenge-driven vampire for generations. Though reluctant to leave Sam and Cas so soon after everything that had happened to them, Dean had been unable to say no when she had asked him for this. They had been staying with Bobby for the past couple of months along with Sam, Cas, Ellen and Jo. Tasha wasn't used to having so many people around and her request for some alone time with him hadn't seemed like much to give. In fact, it had a definite appeal to the hunter too. He may have only spent a few months with her since they had met a year and a half ago, but he loved her more than he had ever thought possible. Spending a couple of weeks with her without the world falling apart around them sounded… nice.

She had spread out a map on Bobby's kitchen table and started rambling about all the places she had visited growing up. Dean had listened with legitimate interest, enjoying her enthusiasm and hearing details of her past. He could count on one hand the people he knew well enough to hear the stories of their childhood and even less that he could share his own memories with in return.

But in truth, he had been genuinely worried he would get bored going a couple of weeks with no hunt, no mission, and no real purpose but to_ 'relax and explore and enjoy a different culture'_, as Tasha had phrased it. That sounded more like '_laze about and look at boring shit in a place where nobody speaks your language'_. Dean travelled constantly but had never been down with the tourist thing. And downtime generally meant too much time to think. For someone with forty years of Hell memories to sift through, too much time to think was never a good thing.

Then Tasha had mentioned Pijijiapan and the city name had triggered something inside him, something he had seen recently, and he deviously but 'ever-so-innocently' suggested they go there.

During the three days it took him to get a fake passport to travel with, stealthy research dug up enough that he was actually excited by the time Air-Castiel flew them down here. Three bodies found shredded to pieces as well as five missing people in the vicinity of the ancient Maya ruins of Bonampak over the past year. Definitely something in his line of work. Might just be a Chubacabra but they were usually found farther south and were rarely known to kill humans. The fact that all the missing or dead people were travelers and not locals pointed to the bigger, deadlier, and far more rare El Cadejo. Any hunter worth his salt wanted one of those on his kill list. All Dean had to do was 'stumble' across the case while in the area…

Yup, this vacation was going to kick ass.

After transporting them, Cas told them to call or pray if they got into any trouble and promised to come and get them in a couple of weeks. He then stood there staring at them with that blank expression of his until Tasha dropped the not-so-subtle hint of saying "Bye Cas," to which he cleared his throat and promptly disappeared.

Of course, Tasha had not directed Cas to Pijijiapan, a city of fifty thousand, but instead to some tiny, rural town of about a hundred people located on the nearby coastline about thirty miles down a single track dirt road. The guy who owned the 'bar' in town (which was really just a concrete block square with a tin roof, a few tables and chairs, and an outhouse round the back) remembered Tasha's parents and graciously rented them his 'casa en la playa', which translated into straw-roofed shack just above the high wave line.

The beach-hut, as Dean had dubbed it, was three miles from town along a narrow, winding footpath that opened up into a small, secluded alcove of bright, yellow sand rimmed with palm trees dripping with clusters of green coconuts. Tasha had wanted to take the couple of burros the landlord had offered to get around on but Dean refused. No way was he schlepping around on a frigging donkey that looked like it was gonna keel over from malnutrition any second. Hence the mo-peds.

During their first couple of days here, it had been a strain on Dean to keep a positive attitude.

There was sand everywhere. It had driven him crazy and he spent the better part of the first two days grumbling about the uncomfortable chafing in both his underwear and his boots.

Then there was the plethora of strange-looking, _giant_ bugs accosting them everywhere. They were in the house, the shower, the frigging sugarbowl. A scorpion the size of his fist had crawled up his damn leg! Tash was still getting good mileage out of the high-pitched sound that had escaped his throat when he had noticed it.

And the sun was relentless, blasting unhindered hundred-degree heat at him from sun-up to sun-down.

But Tash was relaxed and clearly enjoying herself and that alone made his discomfort worthwhile. He eventually heeded her suggestions to swap his flannel layers for a cotton t-shirt and his army surplus boots for plain, sockless trainers he could easily pull off and empty, at least while on the beach. She had tried to nudge him one step farther in the shoe department but no way was he wearing frigging flip-flops.

He had come to realize Mexico had its perks too. The scenery here was colorful and beautiful and the food deliciously authentic. It may not have looked like much, but the bar in town served drinks for as long as its patrons were still standing and even though most of the locals didn't speak English, they seemed to tolerate his attempts at communication. He guessed many of the laughs last night had been at his expense, but the locals had remained good-natured as he beat them at darts and a dice game they called _veintiuno. _Then they had coaxed him to eat that disgusting worm in the bottom of the Mezcal bottle. _Crap, had he really done that?_ It had been a long time since he had let loose as much as he had last night but damn, it had been fun. Not _smart_, since he was quite certain his friendly reception from the locals was only because he had his Spanish senorita at his side, but fun all the same.

Speaking of his sexy sidekick and the perks of Mexico, Tash had worn nothing more than a tiny halter top and daisy dukes since their arrival here and their moonlight skinny-dip in the ocean a couple of nights ago had been… _awesome_.

Yeah, maybe this place wasn't so bad. He could get used to this.

A smile spread on his face as he stood under the outdoor shower at the side of the shack, washing away the last remnants of his hangover as well as the sunscreen Tasha had just lathered him up with. _Oops, looked like she was going to have to re-apply it._ He could think of worse things to suffer through.

Then again, if he kept letting the sunscreen ritual get out of hand, they would never get to Bonampak. He still had a rising toll of shredded bodies to deal with and Tasha had suggested they visit the ancient Maya ruins today.

**~O~**

_And that's the setup… Dean and Tasha up to their usual shenanigans. __FYI, this is before season 5 so Dean is 30 years old. Tasha is around Sam's age. Please don't be shy to review._


	2. Into the Jungle

**Chapter 2 – Into the Jungle**

"You sure he's gonna wait for us?" Dean asked warily as he and Tasha disembarked from the battered old Jeep. Located in the Lacandon jungle, the only way to get the Bonampak ruins other than organized tours was to get a ride through the last few miles of jungle from one of the locals. God, he missed the Impala. Relying on some scowling native whose knowledge of the English language was limited to "fifty dollar Americano" and "jungle not safe" was making the hunter uneasy. But Tasha had kept up a steady conversation in Spanish with their driver for the entire trip and she seemed relaxed. He would have to trust her instincts.

The driver, who Dean had deciphered was named Tat K'in, waved his hands in an emphatic shoo-ing gesture.

"I wait, I wait," the man insisted, sounding impatient.

"You'd better," Dean muttered under his breath, tapping the back of his jeans on impulse to feel the bulk of his 9mm under the canvas jacket he was wearing. He looked around to find that, although impressive, the ruins seemed to be just one large building and aside from the three of them, there wasn't another soul in sight. He made a conscious effort to hide his frustration.

Yet another setback in his quest to bag an El Cadejo. He had planned on asking around for information on the killings and the disappearances but having to communicate through Tasha had prevented him from steering the conversation with Tat K'in the way he normally would have. Now there were no people around to ask. He had expected a bustling tourist spot full of local workers and tour guides.

"Look at this place, Dean!" Tasha gasped, hoisting her small back-pack up and heading across the open grassy area towards the ruin. "It's beautiful!" She turned to grin at him. "And there's nobody else here! We have it to ourselves."

His frustration dissipated instantly at her excitement. The hunt all but forgotten, he quickened his pace to catch up with her. "You know, the brochure says the Yaxchilan ruins are bigger and way more popular," he said, letting her slip her hand into his as they walked. "Why'd you choose Bonampak?"

"Duh, the frescos."

"The what?"

"Frescos. This place is famous for its colored murals. The artist paints with watercolor onto the lime plaster of the walls when it's still wet so the color gets absorbed and stays once the plaster dries." She gave him a sideways glance and chuckled. "Sam would have known that."

"Do I look like a geeky sasquatch to you?"

"That's right, I forgot. I landed the cultured brother who recognizes that AC-DC lyrics are a means to higher enlightenment."

"Lucky you."

She laughed and linked her arm in his, tugging him closer. "Yup, lucky me."

They roamed the grounds before climbing the ruins and spending an hour alone at the top taking in the panoramic jungle views. No buildings. No chimneys. No cars. No smog. Nothing but the wind in the trees, the occasional jungle sound, and his girl in his arms. Christ, he must be going soft because he was enjoying this way too much. So much so he almost forgot about his secret El Cadejo hunt.

Almost. When they finally came back down to go inside, he noticed an empty Land Rover parked over by Tat K'in's Jeep and spared a thought to hope the guide who had driven it here spoke English. The newspapers he had procured so far had been sparse on details, probably intentionally in an effort to protect the struggling tourism industry, so he needed a local to find out more about the killings. A local would know the particulars. People in these parts were very superstitious and would definitely take note of signs pointing to an ancient dog-like monster that preys on travelers.

Tasha practically dragged him inside and straight to the Templo de las Pinturas, rambling on about the uniqueness of the Bonampak frescos. There were three rooms in the temple with murals on every wall that apparently depicted the story of some great battle led by Mayan ruler Chan Muwan as well as scenes illustrating rarely documented court life.

When they entered the first of the three rooms, Dean was surprised to find an older man in a dark suit standing in front of the West wall mural with his arms folded across his chest. He didn't see anyone else around so that meant…

"Excuse me pal, that your Land Rover out there?"

The man turned, one eyebrow raised. "Yes."

Damn. No local guide to press for information. "You, uh, you're not from around here, I'm guessing?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"Oh, really? You live in one of the villages?" The guy certainly didn't look like the rest of the locals from the Lacandon villages. His suit was expensive and impeccably clean, his features more Mediterranean than Mexican, and his grey well-groomed beard gave him an austere and refined air that didn't exactly scream jungle living.

"Of course not," the man answered haughtily to Dean's query. "There is more to this place than jungle villages, Mister…."

"Dean," the hunter supplied, extending a hand to shake. "Sorry, didn't mean any insult."

The man returned the hand shake slowly. "Nikolas." He then simply turned away to gaze once more at the art.

This was the first local Dean had encountered who spoke English so despite the snub, he wasn't going to waste the opportunity. He cleared his throat and ignored the questioning look he earned from Tasha. There really wasn't a way to broach the subject of the recent killings and disappearances without making her suspicious of his motives.

"Dangerous place, the jungle," Dean said to the man, trying to sound casual. "I mean, I heard some people got killed by wild animals recently."

Nikolas gave him a long, studious look. "Do you plan on roaming the jungle by yourself, young man?"

"Well, no…"

"Then you needn't worry." He waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Listen son. Walk the ruins, take your pictures, lie on the beach, try your hand at scuba diving." He gestured towards Tasha as a disapproving sneer flickered across his face. "Sample the local… cuisine, if you will. Then go back home, back to your nine-to-five desk job and your mortgage payments, and tell all your friends how you braved the wilds of Mexico."

There was no shortage of sarcasm in the delivery of the condescending words - the implication of which couldn't be further from the truth. Dean still would have let them slide, however, if it hadn't been for the insult to Tash. If the guy hadn't assumed she was just a holiday hook-up. That she meant nothing more to him than the hundred one-night stands of his younger years. For the first time in his life he had something real, something deep, something he couldn't imagine not being permanent and the insinuation that Tash was anything less than that to him rubbed every nerve he had the wrong way. His back stiffened and his fingers curled into fists.

He was prevented from giving a response by a firm tug on his elbow that drew him backwards and right to the other side of the room.

"Geez, hun, you looked like you were gonna punch the guy," Tasha said quietly.

Dean snorted, allowing his annoyance to dissipate. "Thought about it," he admitted.

"What do we care what he thinks?" she admonished before her smile faded slowly and her expression turned sheepish. "Okay, I gotta tell you something. I was gonna wait 'til we finished here so you wouldn't rush me out but..."

"But what?" he urged when she paused.

"Well, when I was talking to Tat K'in, our driver, he said some stuff when you mentioned the jungle being dangerous. I kinda skipped that part of his answer in my translation to you."

The hunter arched an eyebrow in interest. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Those wild animal killings from the papers... he doesn't think it's the usual jungle wildlife. He said all three people were torn apart. Not eaten, just ripped to pieces. That doesn't happen around here. Animals kill to eat. It actually sounded like it might be something up our alley."

This couldn't be working out more perfectly for Dean. He knew Tasha wouldn't be able to walk away from a hunt where people were dying. She would feel obligated to do something about it and just as he had hoped, she was going to think this was her suggestion and never know he had deliberately steered her here because he thought the regular vacation she had asked for would be boring.

"Like what, a Chubacabra?" he questioned, keeping up the innocent front. "Except they don't usually kill people. Could be a black dog. Or an El Cadejo." He couldn't suppress the smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Damnit, why couldn't he lie to her? This was as difficult as trying to lie harmlessly to Sam. "Since all eight people were travelers and not locals, I'd go with El Cadejo," he concluded.

"Yeah, I suppose... wait, eight?" She frowned at him.

He shrugged, knowing his ruse was wearing thin. "Uh, I read there were five people missing too."

"How'd you know they were all travelers?" she accused, her hands moving to her hips. "That wasn't in the paper we read yesterday. Have you been looking into this?" Disbelief was written all over her face. "You have! You already knew!"

Luckily her look of realization was accompanied by a wide grin, making apparent she wasn't all that surprised. Really, would she ever have expected anything different from him? She knew him pretty well by now.

"I may have heard a thing or two."

She slapped him playfully. "You dick."

He laughed and tugged her close, pulling her chest up against his and smiling down at her. "You'll forgive me."

"I might have except now you're gonna rush me through here so you can get hunting."

"No I won't. I swear. Take your time. We can ask around about the hunt once we get back to town. You have my undivided attention for as long as you like."

She didn't look entirely convinced and gave him a long, appraising stare before pulling away with a laugh. "Okay. You gonna pretend to be interested in this for me or what?"

"I am interested," he lied. He stood back and folded his arms across his chest, pulling on his most pensive expression as he stared at the mural in front of him. "It's fascinating."

"It is." She then proceeded to explain to him exactly why it was fascinating... in great length.

At first he could tell she was stretching things out on purpose, torturing him in retaliation for his deception. They both knew he would pretend to find this as captivating as she did for as long as she dragged their tour out. Her staged fascination was quickly forgotten, however, and by the time they ventured into the second room, Dean could tell her enthrallment was authentic. He knew her mother had been an artist, paintings mostly, and he had often admired the sketches Tasha drew when required on hunts, but he had never realized the depth of her passion for art before. Had never noticed the way her eyes danced when she talked about color hues or muted tones. Had never noticed the way she held her breath for the first few seconds as she stood in silence and took in each new scene before her. How had he not seen this side of her yet?

Then again, he deliberately tuned out the minute she and Sam started any art-related discussions in the Impala on their long drives between hunts. And he was vaguely aware of her secret passion for poetry - the Wordsworth and Frost kind, not Plant and Hetfield - but had never paid it much attention.

"Your parents never brought you here?" He questioned, genuinely interested now. "I figured your mother would have come."

Tasha nodded. "We did but I was only like three or four. My dad told me about it though." Her expression grew reflective, as if she was remembering. "We came to Chiapas on a hunt and my mom tried to track down a sculptor who used to live around here. Some guy named Theodorous or something like that who was supposed to be phenomenal. He did sculptures out of some superhigh-quality marble, which is weird since the quarries in Mexico are more onyx or alabaster."

"You like his stuff?"

"Don't know. Never seen it. Apparently he was some kind of recluse. Refused to sell any of his art or even put it on public display. Some of his stuff was stolen and somehow a piece or two got into the hands of someone who knows enough to recognize the talent so word spread but it never made it past local myth status. I mean, if he'd gone commercial, he could have made millions. I remember my mom saying his work was rumored to rival the greats like Michelangelo and Donatello."

She paused to throw him a sideways glance just long enough to catch the smirk on his face.

"You picture ninja turtles when I say those names, don't you?"

He laughed and leaned in for a kiss. "Yup. And you love me anyway."

She tugged him down to plant her lips on his. "Fucken right I do," she breathed into his mouth.

"So did your parents track the Theodorous guy down?" he asked when they finally broke apart.

"Nah. They found his house but he'd split. All his sculptures were smashed to smithereens and he was just gone. Probably scared off by all the publicity the Nahual was bringing."

"Nahual?"

"Shapeshifting witch."

"Yeah, I know what it is. There was one here twenty years ago?" Dean wondered if that could be relevant to the current case. Hopefully not. He hated witches and he'd much rather bag an El Cadejo.

"That's why we were here," Tasha supplied. "My dad was hunting it."

"He get it?"

"Of course."

They moved on slowly through the second room and into the third. Tasha started talking about the splendor of the head-dresses the warriors were wearing and seeing her wonderment now as she brushed her hand lightly across one of them, Dean felt almost excited. Not at the crappy paintings of half-naked guys with spears, but at getting to see a new side of Tash. A side he knew nobody else got to see. Peeling new layers, hearing new stories of her childhood, and discovering new idiosyncrasies and flaws somehow just made him even more enamored with her.

So as they wandered around each of the mural rooms, Tasha gazed at the art and Dean gazed at Tasha.

And to Dean's annoyance, Nikolas gazed at him. What the Hell was this guy's problem?

Every couple of minutes, he would glance over to find the older man staring sideways at them. He looked away quickly when caught but not fast enough to escape the notice of a trained hunter. And he moved into each new room as they did, skulking around behind them. Granted that could be because the murals were supposed to be viewed in a certain order, but Dean's suspicious nature was telling him the guy was following them. Observing them and listening to their private conversation. His face showed no signs of that condescending sneer from their earlier encounter, however, so Dean let it slide and refused to let it put a damper on his afternoon with Tash.

He chalked it up to basic nosiness when the man left before them, turning abruptly and striding out the door. He and Tasha remained inside another fifteen minutes, enjoying the coolness of the stone rooms before exiting to see the man in the distance standing next to Tat K'in over by the cars. Dean frowned but said nothing as they walked across the grass in that direction.

**~O~**

_"Did I please you, Sir?" asked Tat K'in in fluent Quichean, a language of the ancient Mayans._

_"Oh yes, Tat. You did indeed," Nikolas responded, never taking his eyes off the American man walking their way. "Look at the way he carries himself. Confident, poised, alert. A magnificent specimen. A hunter to rival all others, I would wager." He nodded his approval to the smaller man beside him. "You have selected well, my friend. Give him the information on the ride back to town and make yourself available to him later tonight." _

_"Yes, sir. What about the girl?"_

_"Ah, she is of no consequence. We can dispose of her afterwards."_

_They both watched intently as the young couple closed the distance between them. When they were just out of earshot, Nikolas spoke. "Look at him," he whispered with near reverence. "He's perfect." _

_With that he climbed in his Land Rover and drove away, leaving Tat K'in to step forward and usher his patrons into the battered Jeep for the ride back through the jungle._

**~O~**

"Ask him who that guy was," Dean urged Tasha, twisting around in the front seat of the Jeep to see her in the back.

Tasha groaned but translated the question obediently to Tat K'in. She must have figured out Dean was too impatient to wait for the complete exchange in Spanish to take place because she translated as their driver answered.

"Mr. Nikolas has a big house in the jungle," she said, arching an eyebrow. "He actually calls him Mr. Nikolas."

"What were they so chummy about at the cars?" Dean pressed. He wanted to ask about the killings and disappearances but he couldn't shake the way the old man had been staring at them. It had been borderline creepy.

A grin spread across Tasha's face as she listened to Tat K'in's reply. "He says they were talking about the people who got killed. Mr. Nikolas found one of the bodies in pieces on the road by his front gates. All three died near his house, up his road. He's pretty bothered by the whole thing. Says he's been hearing howls at night in the jungle."

Dean's excitement grew. "Really? We're gonna need directions to his house."

Tasha leaned forward, gripping the headrests of the front seats and speaking with Tat K'in. After a minute or two of animated conversation in Spanish, she finally turned to Dean.

"He says we're crazy and stupid."

"But did you get directions?"

"I got more than that," she gloated. "I got us a ride. He's gonna drive us there at sundown."

**~O~**

They arrived outside Nikolas's place around seven o'clock. Tat K'in ushered them out of his Jeep, yammering loudly and pointing to the thick, dark jungle to the side of the eight-foot high wall surrounding the house and private grounds. Apparently he was too scared to stay outside with them but instead of leaving, he surprised them both by opening the solid iron gate, driving inside, then slamming it shut behind him.

"Is our plan really just to wander around in the jungle until we see a giant dog-monster and then take it on face to face?" Tasha griped as her boot squelched noisily in an unseen patch of mud.

They had picked up some extra weaponry in town. A couple of extra knives and some pouches they had put together containing a pungent mixture of ingredients that supposedly repelled the beast if it got too close. Like, right on top of them close. Dean could tell Tasha wasn't too comfortable with that part, or the 'supposedly' part. When it came to hunting, she had always been more cautious than the Winchesters.

He shrugged. "You got a better plan?"

"There has to be a way to trap it."

Dean pointed to the nearby circle in the road they had made with Mexican hot-foot dust around a cross of Paolo Santo wood. "We can just get into the circle if things get outta hand. He can't touch us in there."

She didn't look convinced. "We should wait a couple of days and do some research first."

"Tash, I dug up everything there is to know before we came down here. Even asked Bobby." He held up his 9mm. "Silver bullets'll work. Trust me. I really wish you'd brought your gun, though."

"Somebody forgot to tell me this was a working holiday."

"Oh yeah," Dean grinned sheepishly. "Well just make sure you stay behind me, 'kay?" He tilted his head towards the twelve inch knife in her hand. They had picked it up in town and etched ancient Guatemalan anti black-magic symbols on the blade before Tat K'in had picked them up to bring them back into the jungle. "It'd be tough to take one of these things out with a knife no matter how good you are," he warned. "Even one with those wards. And remember, don't look it straight in the eyes. It does this hypnotizing thing if it locks your gaze."

Tasha nodded but looked around the dark jungle apprehensively. "So what do we do if a regular snake comes along?"

Dean tensed and peered into the surrounding darkness also, cursing the oversight.

Crap, he'd forgotten about the regular wildlife.

**~O~**

It was just after midnight when they heard the first howl. They were strolling back and forth along the two rocky ruts that passed for a road talking about everything from French toast to The Hangover movie to how Sam and Cas were dealing with all that happened to them last month. Still acutely aware of every noise and movement around him, Dean was enduring Tasha's good-natured teasing about refusing to shoot a deer on the hunting trip Bobby had taken the brothers on as teenagers when the loud, echoing howl had them tensing and gripping their weapons.

A hundred yards down the road from Nikolas's gate, they stood back-to-back and peered nervously into the surrounding darkness.

"Dean!" Tasha whispered, nudging him with her elbow and pointing.

There, floating in the darkness about fifty yards to his right, was a pair of glowing red eyes.

"Don't look right into them!" Dean warned, squinting to try and make out the rest of the beast's body. He ushered Tasha behind him, raising his arm and following the eyes with the barrel of his gun. They remained in the distance, moving silently around the hunters, nothing but a pair of glowing red slits in the blackness.

It circled them twice, making it clear they had its attention, before it finally began to close the distance. There was under fifty feet between the beast and its intended prey before Dean could make out the outline of its body and hear the rumble of its growly breath. It tightened its stalking loop even further.

Dean had seen more than his share of monsters but the El Cadejo was terrifying up close. Waist-high, blackest of blacks, huge fierce-looking fangs, the powerful ripples of muscles visible beneath its short, sleek fur.

And eerily familiar. His mind kept betraying him with flashes of memory that were threatening to throw him off his game. Flashes of Hellhounds leaping at him with fangs bared and claws swiping. Flashes of pain, his skin being sliced open, teeth sinking into his muscle, ripping, tearing. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. This wasn't a Hellhound. This time he had a weapon that would work.

Finally, it attacked, racing straight at them with a loud snarl. Dean fired. Six, eight, ten bullets, all hitting their mark but the damn thing never even slowed.

"Shit," he cursed. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, RUN!" He was still firing as they dashed for the protective circle, which was eighty feet or so away. He kept Tasha in front of him as they ran, his heart hammering in his chest at the sound of the heavy beast galloping through the jungle undergrowth beneath its paws.

He knew the instant it leapt; the instant its huge hind paws pushed off the ground and sent it in a trajectory straight for him. He managed to spin around and swing his arm sideways, knocking it on the side of the face as it bore down on him. He hit the ground with a painful thud, the air rushing from his lungs as its chest collided with his. It collected itself more quickly than he did and pushed him down with both front paws bearing solidly on his chest, claws curling slowly to poke through his jacket pockets. Its fangs were bared and it let out a triumphant snarl voicing what was surely dog-speak for "I'm gonna rip you to shreds now."

But before he could even brace himself for the pain, Tasha was behind it - above it actually – her knife held high. Now Tasha may be just an average shot and able to throw a decent punch but with a knife, she was the best Dean had ever seen. She brought her blade downward in a smooth, sweeping arc, both hands wrapped around its hilt.

Dean knew she had hit her mark when the claws on his chest tightened and pierced right through the flask and notepad that had spared him any real damage so far. He grunted but allowed the pain little more thought than that because the El Cadejo was already spinning towards its new attacker. Tasha danced away but to Dean's horror, he saw she was unarmed, her knife dropping out of the wound between the beast's shoulder blades and toppling to the ground.

"TASH!" He was on his feet in a fraction of a second, lunging after the threat to a person he loved and grabbing it by the tail in the only desperate move he could see to stop it. "Tash!" he cried again, this time mostly for the motivation he needed to pull with all his strength and stop the beast from making its deadly lunge forward.

It was clearly weakened by the knife wound Tasha had made for the yank to its tail worked. It scrabbled for purchase in the loose brush beneath it before pulling up short and spinning around once more, red eyes narrowing into angry slits aimed at Dean. With the bullets failing to have any effect, Dean knew this was their last chance. They wouldn't survive many more close-quarter attacks by an enemy that was faster, stronger, and better armed than them. In the pause it took to snarl its fury at him, his hand swooped down and retrieved Tasha's knife from the jungle floor, raising it in front of him. The beast leapt at him again, through the air and directly at his face. He braced himself and when it was almost on him, rammed the knife upwards with all his strength.

He felt the familiar resistance followed by squishy give as the blade sank into its chest. Its jaws snapped shut an inch from his face, a hot puff of foul breath washing over him as he grunted from the impact.

As he fell backwards under the weight of the beast, he heard Tasha shrieking his name. Rolling sideways, he was just in time to avoid the two-hundred and fifty pounds that slammed onto the ground next to him. He wasn't as fortunate when it came to the claws, however and he felt a series of sharp, stinging pains across his right arm as the beast's paws lashed out at him. He scrambled away to find Tasha tugging him to his feet.

Panting, he rose and staggered backwards to a safe distance. With Tasha clinging to him in obvious relief, they watched as the El Cadejo spasm'd and twitched a few last times before falling still with a long, gurgling exhale.

"You okay?" Tasha's voice was breathless, her hand on his cheek pulling it around to face her. "Dean?"

He managed a huff of laughter at the obvious worry in her eyes. "I'm fine."

Both her hands were on his face now. "Jesus, when I saw it on top of you…"

"Yeah, that was kinda close." He closed his hands over hers and tugged them away in mock annoyance. "Tash, seriously, I'm fine." In truth, he enjoyed the fretting. He used to enjoy it when Sam did it too, though he would never have admitted that either. Their gushing, open concern for him actually felt good; much better than the "keep your guard up next time, son" scolding he had so often received from his father when things didn't go entirely according to plan.

She nodded and stepped back, taking a deep breath he recognized as her stall tactic while she pulled herself together. She looked down at the black heap of fur on the ground next to them then back up at Dean and a grin spread across her face.

"Holy shit, we just took out an El Cadejo," she beamed. "You gonna take a picture or what?" She tugged her phone from her pocket. "Get down next to its head; I'll make sure I get its fangs."

He laughed. "See that's why I fucking love you."

The photograph was forgotten when she grabbed him and pulled him in for a sudden, deep kiss. One he returned happily and in great length.

The impromptu make-out session was interrupted all too soon by a voice behind them.

"That was amazing."

They spun to see Nikolas standing twenty feet away, still wearing his perfectly-tailored, expensive suit, with Tat K'in shuffling nervously beside him.

"I was right," Nikolas continued, gesturing towards the dead beast that was just starting to dissolve. "It is an El Cadejo, of the ancient legends. I suspected but was wary to believe in such things." He nodded appraisingly. "I did not think they could be killed."

Dean tugged Tasha's knife out of the disintegrating body and held it up. The etchings were barely visible in the light of the moon through the dark coating of blood that was turning to black dust. "Guatemalan anti-magic symbols," he explained. "Takes the imm outta his imm-ortal."

Nikolas smiled. "Please, you must come to my home. You can clean your wounds and I shall prepare a meal fit for such an occasion."

Dean shook his head. "Uhh, thanks for the offer but I just want to get back to our place on the beach."

The old man wasn't to be dissuaded. "Oh but I insist."

Dean put his arm around Tasha. "Thanks but I just wanna get back, relax, spend some alone time with my girl, if you don't mind."

Nikolas gasped in apparent shame and turned to Tasha. "I apologize for my rudeness, senorita. I have not properly introduced myself." He stepped forward and lifted Tasha's fingers with his, pressing his lips lightly to the back of her hand. "I am Nikolas Theodorous. And you are?"

It was dark but Dean could tell Tasha was blushing. It was amusing.

"Um, I'm Natasha," she offered politely, using her full name as she usually did with strangers. Then she frowned. "Wait, Theodorous? Nikolas Theodorous? Same as the …?"

"The sculptor?" Nikolas finished for her. "Yes, that is me. I heard you speaking about me at Bonampak. I must be honest, I try to keep to myself or I would have introduced myself earlier. And so you know, I rarely invite people into my home. But what you two just did is…" He looked down at the pile of black dust, barely visible in the dark dirt of the jungle floor. "… Remarkable," he finished. "You have saved many lives by ridding us of this evil. Please, the least I can do is offer you a meal and a safe bed for the night."

Dean was still leaning towards a polite decline but Tasha apparently had different ideas.

"Can we see your sculptures?" she asked eagerly.

He laughed pleasantly. "Of course, my dear. I will give you a personal tour of my gallery. You flatter me with your interest."

He smiled and Dean couldn't decide if he was being genuinely modest or if there was something more behind the façade.

"I trust you will not spread word I am here," Nikolas added. "I do treasure my privacy."

Realizing he was beat, Dean nodded. "Not lookin' to advertize our own involvement here," he admitted. "Our lips are sealed." He handed Tasha her knife and smiled at Nikolas. "So, you mentioned a meal?"

They followed Nikolas and Tat K'in through the gate and down the long driveway. Stepping onto the property was like entering a different world. Even in the pale moonlight, Dean could see the grass was plush and well manicured. Paths of intricate stone patterns meandered in every direction through clusters of trees with stone sculptures and benches. Flowers bloomed on bushes that he was certain would be all sorts of colors in the daytime. It was like a little Garden of Eden tucked away inside the harsh wilds of the surrounding jungle.

Nikolas led them up the main path to a stone patio with a white marble railing. When Tasha tapped his arm and pointed, Dean noticed the balustrades and railings were all carved in the shape of snakes. Various sizes and shapes, heads up, heads down, tongues in or out, fangs in or out. Dean had to admit, it was pretty cool. A waste of time and effort on a house in the middle of the jungle that nobody ever saw, but it was cool. He didn't have much of an appreciation for the fine arts, but even he could say this guy must be a fantastic artist.

**~O~**

_Up ahead, Tat K'in gave Nikolas a puzzled look. "I don't understand, sir," he whispered when Dean and Tasha fell behind to admire the porch railing. "It was perfect. He stabbed it mid-air. I thought it would be everything you wanted. As you predicted, he was magnificent."_

_Nikolas smiled knowingly. "Yes, he was. But as I was waiting, watching them, I realized my mistake. He is far more than I had initially thought. We have stumbled upon something far more rare and elusive. Do not worry. I will not allow such a prize to go to waste. I have a much bigger plan for our new friends."_

**~O~**

_**A/N**: So, the next chapter is where Dean and Tash find themselves in the REAL trouble. Oh, and Sam and Cas finally come into the story. Hope anyone reading (thanks btw) is enjoying and making their own guesses as to what's going on here... Would love to hear from you. _


	3. Forever in the Moment

_**Author's Note - Warning: **__I didn't really think ahead enough when I first posted this fic and rated it a T. This chapter, although not graphic or smutty (like some of the other fics in the Tasha series) is perhaps a tad past what I am comfortable labeling under 'T' so I have raised the rating to an 'M'. I thought I could write this chap completely family-friendly but due to the nature of the circumstance Dean and Tasha find themselves in, it just wasn't working. So don't be scared off if you don't like smut because it doesn't go that route, but it's not for young'uns. _

**CHAPTER 3 – Forever in the Moment**

Nikolas certainly was a gracious host. He immediately sent Tat K'in to the kitchen with orders to prepare some meal Dean had never heard of then directed his guests to a huge washroom so they could clean up.

"I feel like we're in fucking Buckingham Palace," Tasha whispered while she leaned against the granite countertop and dabbed at the series of small puncture-wounds on Dean's chest from the El Cadejo's claws with the corner of a plush towel.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, a little more upscale than Bobby's, huh?"

He had never put much value in things such as lavish furnishings, vaulted ceilings, and ornate artwork. A motel 6 double queen suited him just fine. Tacky wallpaper, dull carpets, generic garden prints on the walls. Anywhere he and Sam – and now Tasha – could rest up and be safe, even if only for a night.

But this place was pretty spectacular. It was Dean's instinct to touch and he had to consciously keep his hands to himself as they followed Nikolas a few minutes later to his 'gallery' for the promised tour. The rooms were large and open, sparse of furniture but full of intricately carved stone columns, water features, and elaborate lighting fixtures all with snake motifs.

"Guy has a serious hard-on for snakes," Dean whispered in Tasha's ear, earning himself both a giggle and a soft punch in the arm.

Their host stopped when he came to a large set of carved mahogany doors, swinging them both open wide and turning around to give them a grandiose gesture directing them into the room. Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes and stepped forward. They were in a long, wide hallway, well-lit with sculptures lining each wall, large and small and all set upon black stone stands.

The only two sculptures not on stands were the first to greet them, a pair of Panthers suspended by near invisible wires above them, leaping at each other with protruding claws and angry snarls, locked in an eternal, unwinnable battle and framing the hallway in such a way it made quite an impressive start to the tour. Dean whistled as he walked beneath them; they really did look very lifelike despite the almost pure off-white color, swirls and streaks of slightly darker tones giving the large cats dimension and shadow in all the right places.

"Mexican lions," Nikolas offered. "Also called mountain lions or panthers or pumas, depending on the region. Most of my work is of the local wildlife. I like to see the creature up close before I create. I feel it better allows me to capture the true essence of the animal."

Dean nodded, barely listening. "That's pretty awesome," he praised, still staring upwards.

"It's fantastic," Tasha agreed, already making her way to the next, smaller sculpture of a monkey. "Howler Monkey," she read from the brass engraved plaque affixed to the stand. "Oh my God, Dean," she gasped, leaning in close. "The detail! It's like this little guy's looking right at me!"

Dean finally tore his eyes from the jungle cats and the trio made their way slowly down the hallway. They stopped to admire each piece, including a bat with a two-foot wingspan, an anteater, an armadillo, a Bolson tortoise, various deer, and a lot of snakes. Like A LOT of snakes. Twisted everywhere around columns and hanging light fixtures.

Nikolas looked pleased at Tasha's gasps of admiration and seemed more than willing to answer all of her questions. He informed his guests that he had lived in this same house just over twenty years ago but the string of strange deaths in nearby Pijijiapan had brought an unexpected influx of Federales and press and somehow word of the reclusive artist had spread. Detesting public attention, Nikolas had fled and heard soon after that vandals had looted his residence and destroyed all his art.

"That had to suck," Dean sympathized. "Must take you a long time to do all these."

Nikolas just shrugged. "If I am properly motivated, time is of no consequence."

He continued to tell his story, how he started over in Norway and stayed there for four or five years before doing the same in the Northwest Territories, Mongolia, then Botswana. "But this place is where my heart is," he said. "This is the place I will always consider home. I have spent most of my life here. I returned just over two years ago and am creating my greatest collection yet."

"What the Hell is that?" Dean interrupted, frowning at a giant, four-legged creature with a rodent-like face and a long narrow snout. He tried not to make a point of looking but couldn't help notice the thing was exceptionally well-hung and wondered if that was real or if Nikolas took a bit of liberty in that area.

Nikolas chuckled in amusement. "That is a tapir," he explained. "I just finished him last week and haven't had the chance to finish the nameplate. He is bigger than most and quite an aggressive, stubborn fellow."

"So you based it on a real tapir?" A smile appeared on Tasha's face. "Or do you give your creations names and personalities?"

Nikolas smiled back. "I like to think my creations take on a life of their own. They are not just hunks of stone, after all."

"Not when you're done with them," Tasha agreed, running her fingers down the tapir's snout before moving to a cluster of parrots. "Oh my God! The freaking detail!" she gasped, reaching for the closest parrot's tail but pulling her fingers back before touching anything.

Dean chuckled at her hesitation. It was made of stone. Wasn't like she could break it.

"You like that?" Nikolas said, his expression smug. Then again, Dean figured the guy had every right to be proud of his handiwork. "Have a look in the glass case on the wall," Nikolas continued, pointing.

Tasha and Dean made their way over to find five butterflies in the display, all the same golden-tone white to match the rest of the sculptures. The detail of the bodies and smoothness of the wafer-thin wings made it appear as though they would break apart if anyone so much as breathed on them.

"Is this ivory?" Tasha asked.

Nikolas shook his head. "I work exclusively in marble."

"Damn, I didn't think marble could be shaved so thin!" she marveled, her voice practically a whisper. "You know, Nikolas, I always thought what made jungle wildlife so awesome was the vibrant colors the animals come in. I thought marble animals would be... well, dull, but what you've done in here, even without color, they're just as beautiful. So alive. I mean, _spectacular_. My mother would have loved this. I wish she had found you twenty years ago."

Dean raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic sharing. Tasha rarely even mentioned her parents and she _never_ mentioned them to strangers. Seeing her so relaxed and completely enjoying herself was all new to him. He decided right there and then she had been right about taking a vacation. It was nice to spend time with her and not have to worry about demon deals, Lucifer, Crowley, demons or vampires, or saving the world from all of the above. She deserved this. _They_ deserved this.

They were at the end of the hall now where a Jaguar stood regally on its black stone stand with one front paw raised, appearing to stare right at them as Nikolas pulled open the large door.

"This is but recreations of simple animal life, my dear," the older man said, dismissing Tasha's flattery. "Wait until you see my Essence of Life Collection." They stepped through into a large, round room with a high, ribbed dome ceiling. "I don't wish to sound over-congratulatory, especially since it is a work in progress, but this… this is to be my masterpiece collection."

There were ten large black stone bases, nine around the perimeter and one in the center of the room. Only five of them had sculptures on them and Dean and Tasha moved towards the closest.

"The Mother." Dean read the plaque out loud. It was a young woman with a baby held in her arms, a loving smile on her face as she stared down at the giggling baby. Like all of Nikolas's work, it was life size and very detailed. The woman was wearing a plain dress much like the women of the local villages wore, a shawl draped around her shoulders and one breast exposed, presumably for breastfeeding. It was pretty lifelike, Dean conceded, before shifting to move on but Tasha wrapped her fingers around his wrist, keeping him in place.

"You're not seeing it," she whispered.

"Huh? 'Course I am."

"No, you're not really seeing it," she insisted, turning his face back towards the sculpture. "Look at it. I mean, _really_ look at it." She paused and Dean concentrated on obeying, not wanting to disappoint her but just not getting it.

"Look at the expression on her face," Tasha instructed, clearly seeing he was at a loss.

Dean did so. He stared at the woman's face for a long, long minute.

"What do you see?" Tasha asked him.

Then it struck him. Wow. Tasha was right. A boring likeness of an unknown person suddenly became so much more when he opened his mind to it and let himself see it as more than a chunk of stone. Just like the best of the classic rock songs he loved were more than just words and guitar riffs.

"Love," he answered, feeling enlightened and embarrassed at the same time. "Like complete, total, unconditional love."

Tasha nodded. "The essence of a mother, I'm guessing. Do you know how hard it is to capture an emotion so perfectly, so strongly in a stone sculpture, with no color to do your work for you? You can see this woman's love in her eyes even though they're white and should by all rights seem completely blank. I know you don't care for art much, but believe me when I tell you there's good and then there's... Dean, Nikolas is amazing."

Dean nodded. "I believe you. Honestly, I think... I see what you mean. I never really paid things like this enough attention before to get how..." He trailed off, not sure what he was even trying to say.

"How art can speak to you?" she finished, curling her arm in his as they headed to the next sculpture.

He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head in lieu of an answer.

"The Father," he read aloud. This one was a man and a boy of about four or five, sitting side by side on a log, each holding knives to small, shapeless objects in their hands.

"What do you see?" Tasha asked.

Dean laughed, hoping he wasn't going to be quizzed on them all from now on. "The father's teaching the boy how to carve," he observed. "They're making something out of the pieces of wood in their hands. The dad's looks like it's gonna be a mask but the kid's... I'd go with alien ship or blob."

Tasha giggled.

"What do you see?" Dean turned the question on her.

She paused and stared intently at the sculpture for a moment before answering. "The father's proud. Yeah, the son's looks like a piece of crap but the dad's proud of him anyway."

Dean gave the sculpture his own intense scrutiny before nodding. "And they're having fun," he added. "The kid's happy to be spending time with his dad. Happy his dad's pleased with him. Wants to be just as good as him someday."

Dean was genuinely surprised by the sudden swell of emotion within him. Thoughts of all the times his own father had taught him the ways of hunting; shooting, researching, sparring, making silver bullets. Of all the times John Winchester must have given Dean the very same look this man was giving his son. It was pride, as it had been with them because in the end, Dad had told him how proud he was before trading his life for Dean's.

"It's good," he said quietly, meaning the simple words as the highest form of praise.

They kept going, marveling at the 'Innocence' captured in the carving of a young boy and how very roguish 'The Knave' came across. 'The Healer' was a young Red Cross doctor complete with one-armed patient on a cot before him. The handsome man's face was full of compassion while the patient's was contorted in obvious pain.

The other five black bases stood empty and Dean was almost disappointed to have reached the end of their tour. "So what're the other five gonna be?" he asked, lifting the piece of cloth that was covering the next stand. "The Warrior."

"No you mustn't…" Nikolas began, huffing in displeasure. "It is bad luck to display the name of an unfinished work," he explained.

Dean gave him a sheepish look. "Sorry."

"No harm done," Nikolas dismissed. "Come, let us eat."

**~O~**

Having no idea if the man even understood him, Dean told Tat K'in quite enthusiastically that he was wasting his talents driving tourists to and from the Bonampak ruins and that he should be a full-time chef. "This is to frigging die for, whatever it is," he praised, jabbing his fork at the smoked chili sweet potatoes on his plate while simultaneously drooling over the cerdo almendrado waiting on his side plate.

Nikolas and Tat K'in proved to be good company for the delicious meal despite Nikolas's constant barrage of questions. When did they meet? How long had they known each other? Did Dean give Tasha the ring she wore? Why were they not married?

Dean enjoyed the knowing glances and sly smiles he and Tasha shared as they lied their way through the answers. After a lifetime of pretending, lying came as second nature to the young couple. Nikolas may be aware of some elements of the supernatural, such as the El Cadejo, and that his guests had hunted before, but he didn't get to know their whole story. He didn't get to know about Dean's time in Hell or that Tasha had spent her life running from a psychotic vengeful vampire. He didn't get to know that both of them had lost their parents to monsters or demons and that their childhoods had been lonely and violent. No, Nikolas hadn't earned that.

But he was charming and hospitable and had served them a frigging awesome meal so he got a story about their whirlwind romance onboard a haunted Alaskan Cruise ship that ended in heroics and a happily-ever-after. Totally made up but entertaining and completely harmless.

Dean was in a good mood by the time he swirled the last drop of Macallan scotch down his throat. It was well after three o'clock in the morning and between the ruins, the hunt, and the dinner games with Tash, he would have to call this an almost perfect day. Nikolas yawned before excusing himself for the night and leaving Tat K'in to show his guests to their room.

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Tasha as the local man swung open the mahogany door to reveal a large and lavishly-decorated room with at least a hundred lit candles placed all around the perimeter. There was a huge four-posted bed in the middle of the far wall with sheer drapes drawn aside and secured to the posts. "It's like a honeymoon suite at some five star hotel!"

"El Señor Nicolás espera y les agrade la habitación," Tat K'in said. "El baño se encuentra por esa puerta." He pointed to a door on the far wall. "Descansen bien." Dean figured he was pointing out the bathroom so didn't request a translation. Tat K'in gave them each a sharp nod and took his leave, closing the heavy doors behind him with a click.

Dean and Tasha just stood there looking around for a minute before turning to each other. Dean was surprised to see a pink flush on Tasha's cheeks.

"It's kinda..." she began but trailed off.

"Romantic?" he offered.

"I was gonna say over the top," she laughed. "But romantic works."

"So does super cheesy."

"I know, right? The only thing missing is the rose petals on the sheets."

"I'll be sure to give Nikolas shit about that tomorrow," grinned Dean, stepping forward and lifting her off her feet. She squealed with pleased surprise as he walked her towards the bed and tossed her unceremoniously onto it. She sank into the plush cover and bounced gently, laughing.

"Always the gentleman. Jerk. Mmmm, my God, Dean, it's so soft," she hummed, sweeping her hands back and forth across the bedding.

Dean threw his jacket onto the floor and tugged at the hem of his t-shirt. "Bet it feels even softer without clothes on."

Tasha sat up without hesitation, pulling her top and bra off in record time and dropping them onto the floor. "Let's see about that," she said, lying back down on the bed topless. "Mmmm, yup," she purred, squirming and arching in a way Dean knew was meant to get him to move faster.

For just that reason, he took his time undoing the button on his jeans and tugging the zipper down. "You look like you're having enough fun on your own," he teased as she made a show of removing her jeans and underwear. "Maybe I should go have a shower or something. Give you some private time."

"Just get those damn pants off, bucko, and come feel this on your naked skin."

He yanked the denim over his feet and toed his boots and socks off. "Well, when you put it like that."

Without further warning, he leapt, landing his body right over hers, forearms boxing in her face as he leaned down for a long, drawn-out kiss.

They took their time, slowly entwining themselves in the feather-soft bedspread as the intimacy of the moment heightened with every touch. By the time Dean rolled back on top and slipped inside her, the hunt and the dinner and the candles had all but faded into distant memory. His entire conscious space was filled by the woman in his arms. His lips barely left her skin as he moved with a slow, unhurried rhythm, savoring every sensation and emotion their closeness was delivering. The intensity of it all along with Tasha's quiet, breathy moans weren't going to let him last much longer and he sat up, pulling her with him in an attempt to give them a few more sweet seconds. His hands fell to her hips to maintain the languid pace and he brushed his lips against her neck.

"This was the perfect day," she whispered as she clung to him, her words hot and breathy in his ear.

She tilted her head and body back just enough to lock eyes with him, lips parting slightly as it became clear she, too wasn't going to last much longer. Dean wanted to agree with her spoken sentiment but couldn't form the words.

Like, physically couldn't form the words.

That was when he noticed Tasha had grown still, her breathing silent and her hips no longer moving against his. A few seconds of utter confusion followed before it occurred to him Tasha wasn't moving at all.

And neither was he.

He was frozen. _They_ were frozen. Completely immobile. Tasha's eyes were still locked with his, her face an expression of adoration and lust that was wildly unnatural in its stillness. Dean didn't feel any pain or strain as he tried to move his muscles, his hand, his eyes… he just didn't feel _anything_.

What the Hell was going on? Were angels dicking around with time again? This had to be a space-time-continuum thing…

"Perfect."

He heard the voice and recognized it instantly as Nikolas's but without being able to move so much as an eyeball, his vision was limited to his current peripheral, which didn't extend past Tasha and the edge of the bed. How the Hell had Nikolas made it into the room without him noticing? He sounded close.

Mentally he was screaming in anger and indignance and yes, in fright, but physically, he got no response from his own body. It was like he was floating, unattached yet trapped.

He heard the sound of the door opening behind him. Damnit he needed to move! He was completely vulnerable and so was Tash. Not to mention _naked_.

"Absolutely perfect, don't you think?"

"Si, Señor."

Oh crap. Tat K'in was here too? He and Tasha were naked and in the most private of private moments and these two were standing in his room gawking at them? He felt enraged and utterly violated.

"I am the absolute master of knowing how to choose the best possible moment, if I do say so myself."

That bastard sounded extra smug now. But what the Hell was he talking about?

"Look at the subtle ripple of muscle in his back, Tat. And her hips, canted just enough to show passion and lust but not enough to be vulgar. The way his hand cradles her head ever so gently. So much longing, so much tenderness, so much love."

"Si, Señor."

The top of Nikolas's head appeared in Dean's peripheral vision, smiled insidiously at him, then disappeared.

"I apologize to both of you," he said once out of sight again. "I should explain while you can still hear me for it won't take long before the transformation is complete and the outside world will be lost to you. See, I had originally intended you for a different purpose, Dean. I was blinded by your outward bearing. Your confidence, your poise, your sense of purpose and bravery and righteousness that were reflected in the way you moved, the way you walked, the way you almost struck me at the ruins for an unintended insult to Natasha's honor. I thought you were my perfect Warrior. But as I watched you, both of you together, I realized I had stumbled upon something far more elusive. "

Dean was hearing the words but became distracted when he noticed Tasha's face was changing. Still frozen in the same expression, it was turning white, a golden-hued off-white to be exact, smooth and polished just like… _like Nikolas's sculptures_. His mind filled with a panic his body couldn't feel, a dizzying panic that worsened when his vision began to darken and Tasha faded from view.

Nikolas kept right on talking. "Do you know how rare it is to find such a true devotion and love between a man and a woman in this age of women's liberation and one-night stands and rampant divorce? The way you two look at each other. The way you both acted without a sliver of concern for your own safety when you thought the other's life was about to be taken by the El Cadejo. It was inspirational. It was monumental. It was worthy of my Essence of Life Gallery."

Dean's vision was completely black now and Nikolas's words were growing more and more faint.

"You two have the honor of being my truest masterpiece. You will be the centerpiece of my collection. I shall call you 'The Lovers.'"

**~O~**

_**Ten days later…**_

"Any word yet, Cas?"

"No. Dean said he would pray or call when he wanted to come back."

"Can't you just, you know, reach out and check on them? It's been almost two weeks." Sam was getting worried. His brother deserved a break and Sam had been all for Dean and Tasha going on a vacation but it had been eleven days since Dean had last called to check-in. Well, that call had more likely been to find someone to gripe to about the sand and the bugs, but Sam had expected another by now.

"Uhhh," Cas gave him an uncomfortable look. "I can't pop in unexpectedly. Tasha gets… upset."

One corner of Sam's lips curled upwards. "You're scared of Tasha?"

"No, of course not. But I have learned life is easier if she is not upset with me."

Sam laughed but it was short-lived. "I mean, it's just not like Dean to not check-in," he said with a sigh. "Especially after everything that happened to me and you last month. I mean, I know I say he worries too much but…"

"But it is not like him to _not_ worry," Cas concluded with a nod. "Very well, I will not bother them but will simply get a sense if he is alright or not."

His face stiffened and his gaze went blank for a few seconds. Then he shifted, his shoulders stiffening and his features pulling into a look of deeper concentration. Finally, his face contorted in an intense frown before he blinked twice and looked up at Sam.

"I cannot sense him."

Sam's heart lurched in his chest. "What do you mean? Is he… is he dead?"

Cas shook his head. "No. If he were dead I would sense that and would still be able to find his body. He and Tash both; they're just… gone."

**~O~**

_Thank you Kaoz for the help with the Spanish in this chapter. _


	4. Following the Trail

_**Notes**__: Thank-you to Kaoz again for helping me with the Spanish in this chapter. Google-Translator can't always get slang or dialects right and can't put words in context properly, so a fluent friend is always a better way to go! :) Also, for those who haven't read my Tasha series, Sam never took that dive into the pit, he saved the world from Lucifer in an entirely different way, so Cas never healed Dean in the cemetery and therefore, Dean's handprint on his shoulder is still there in this series._

_**Previously**__: On their vacation in Mexico, Dean and Tasha hunt and kill an El Cadejo then get invited in to the mysterious Mr. Nikolas Theodorous's giant house. After a lovely meal and a tour of his art galleries, they are shown to their room to find a scene from a romance novel with a hundred lit candles and a four-posted bed. Thinking their host is just an extreme romantic trying to be gracious, and being Dean and Tasha, they take advantage of the setting and make love. Right in the middle of it, however, they freeze and turn to stone. Nikolas is suddenly there and tells them they are to be the centerpiece of his Essence of Life collection, a piece titled 'The Lovers'. Then Dean can't hear or see anything anymore._

_Ten days later, with no word from them, Sam is getting worried and Cas realizes he can't find Dean, even with his angel senses. Dean and Tasha are just gone._

**~O~**

**CHAPTER 4 - Following the Trail**

"Cas, you okay?" Sam asked, his face furrowed in concern when he noticed the tiny sway.

The angel righted himself quickly and stiffened. "Of course. I brought both Dean and Tasha here, remember?"

The hunter resisted an eye roll. "I remember it wiping you out for two days." Cas was still getting used to his diminished angel powers after his grace was damaged last month amid all the chaos with Crowley, Eve, and the Campbells and had been reluctant to admit how much the simple transport two weeks ago had taken out of him. It would seem that hadn't changed.

"I'm fine."

Sam snorted as he took in their surroundings and blew out a breath at the wave of heat hitting his face. "Now you sound just like Dean," he commented dryly.

"The town to which they were headed is just a few minutes in this direction," Cas announced, marching purposefully along the single lane gravel road they were standing in. There was nothing to see but thick bushes and shrubbery on either side and blue, cloudless skies above.

Sam rushed to follow and sure enough, a cluster of small dwellings appeared in a dip around the second bend. Sam grew skeptical as they walked down the main road - make that the _only_ road - in town. "This is where Tasha asked to go?"

Cas nodded, sporting his 'profoundly concerned' expression, which the Winchesters had determined exactly matched his 'highly concerned' expression and his 'completely confused' expression.

"Okay then," Sam sighed, his hands moving to his hips as he spun in a slow three-sixty. "Hmmm. Where to start."

His eyes fell on a small, concrete block building with a tin roof and a faded plywood sign outside that read 'CANTINA'. "Well, this _is_ Dean we're looking for," he mumbled, heading immediately in that direction.

It was dark inside and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. A dozen wooden tables were scattered through the room, all empty save one in the far corner that supported the head of the bar's lone occupant who looked suspiciously like he was sleeping or passed out. Hearing a noise from the room behind the counter, Sam leaned over it and called out a loud "Hello?". They waited a full five minutes before an older man sauntered out and gave them a curious look.

"Quivo guero?" the man greeted them, reaching for two shot glasses and a bottle of some amber liquid Sam thought looked more like urine than real liquor. He placed the glasses in front of the hunter and started pouring.

"Uh, no thanks, I'm not here to drink," Sam halted him. When the man kept pouring, he tried again in Spanish. "No, uh, yo no tomar." The guy just flashed him a grin and slid one of the glasses along the counter until it was in front of Cas.

"Treinta pesos."

"No, I..." Sam gave up and dug for his wallet with a sigh. "I'm looking for my brother and his girlfriend," he said, handing the guy an American five dollar bill while repeating the question in his somewhat-passable Spanish. He pulled up a picture of Tasha and Dean on his phone and showed it to the man.

"Ah, Natasha y Dean!" the man grinned, nodding his head.

Sam 's heart lifted at the good luck. "Yes. Si, si. Tu mirar los?"

The man started talking, his face a myriad of different expressions as he rambled on and on, far too fast for Sam to follow.

"Wait, wait, what?" Sam tried to keep up. "Slow down, alto, alto..."

"He says they were here," Cas cut in, translating effortlessly. "He says he rented them his house on the beach a couple of miles away and two... ciclomotor?"

"I think he means scooters," Sam explained, urging Cas to continue. "Or mo-peds. Bicycles with little motors."

"Ah." Cas nodded in understanding before continuing to translate as the man spoke. "They apparently wrecked one of them. He says he liked Dean and Natasha very much but they owe him seven hundred pesos."

"Tell him I'll pay it if he knows where they are now."

Cas repeated the offer in perfect, fluent Spanish then furrowed his brow at the answer. "They left without letting him know ten days ago. He believes it was because of the damaged scooter. He says they dropped the scooters behind the bar and got a ride to Palenque with Eduardo. They left nothing but a few articles of clothing in the beach house and..."

Sam cut him off. "I got the last bit," he frowned. "He said he hasn't seen them since." He pulled fifty more American dollars from his wallet and handed them to the bartender. "For the busted ciclomotor. Where can I find Eduardo? Donde Eduardo?"

The bartender took the money and pocketed it quickly before flashing Sam another friendly grin and pointing to the man hunched over at the table in the corner. "Eduardo."

Sam wasted no time in marching over and shaking the man's shoulder. Cas was a few seconds behind him, having taken the time to lift the shot glass of yellow liquid and eye it curiously before downing it. He was still wearing a grimace of displeasure when he came to stand beside the anxious hunter.

"You awake? Um, arriba you? Um, tu. Hey, necessitar question, uh, preguntar."

"I speak English," the man replied groggily.

"Oh good. Listen, about ten days ago you drove my brother and his girlfriend to Palenque. Where exactly did you take them? Where were they going?"

"Who?"

"My brother. Dean. Dean and Natasha."

Eduardo laughed heartily. "Dean! That crazy gringo can't hold his liquor."

Cas frowned. "Actually, it is my understanding Dean has quite a high tolerance for the consumption of alcohol."

"Maybe in America. He's in Mexico now, mi amigo."

"Where exactly did you take them? Where were they going?" Sam repeated his questions impatiently.

"Dropped them in Palenque but they were going on to Bonampak."

"The ruins?"

Eduardo nodded.

"Can you drive us there?" Sam didn't want to use up Cas's limited angel mojo by blipping around unnecessarily. They may need it later. Besides, it was better to follow the route the missing couple had taken as closely as they could. Couldn't afford to miss a clue when they had so little to go on.

Eduardo looked reluctant as he glanced down at his half-empty drink on the table.

Sam pulled out another hundred dollars, mentally scolding Dean for the expensive process this rescue was turning out to be.

Eduardo grunted but took the money and rose to his feet. "I can't take you into the jungle. You'll have to take a bus or get one of the local drivers to take you the last few miles to the ruins."

Sam nodded eagerly, pushing aside the worry about this man's ability to drive as Eduardo staggered slightly on his way to the door.

**~O~**

They made it without crashing but Sam and Cas were unable to get much more helpful information out of their driver during the six-hours they spent cramped in the front of his 1970's Ford pick-up. Eduardo informed them he had dropped Dean and Tasha off at the cab stand at the crossroads where people could hire a driver to take them into the jungle to the ruins. He let Sam and Cas out at the same place and drove away.

The pair started asking around, showing a picture of Dean and Tasha that Sam had on his phone, and soon found someone who recognized them. The lady running the small store there told them a local named Tat K'in had taken them into Bonampak. Unfortunately, Tat K'in wasn't around today and nobody knew where to find him or how to get a hold of him. Apparently he only offered his shuttle services every now and again and wasn't a regular.

Finding his search had hit another dead end, Sam hired a kid who couldn't have been more than sixteen to drive him and Cas to the ruins. They walked around Bonampak looking for any sign of the missing pair, including indications of a fight or a struggle or even frigging M&M's in the grass.

Nothing.

"Let's head back into town," Sam sighed. "Try sniff up a lead from there."

Cas looked annoyed. "This process is frustratingly slow," he snapped.

"This is hunting, Cas. Tracking down clues and following leads one at a time. Welcome to my life."

"Unless we can find this Tat K'in, we are at a dead end."

"Nope, not necessarily. If we can't find Dean, we find what he was after. We follow the hunt."

"The El Cadejo."

"Right. Bobby admitted Dean thought there might be one doing some killing around here. The information on the killings and disappearances was limited so what would have been Dean's first move to solve this hunt?"

"Impersonating an officer of the law," Cas replied promptly, looking pleased with himself. "He does that quite frequently."

Sam laughed. "Dean wouldn't exactly pass for a Mexican Federale. The only Spanish he knows is Hasta la Vista, baby."

"Tasha would pass."

"Bobby said Dean was trying to keep the hunt on the DL."

"DL?"

"Down low. A secret. Tasha would have been pissed."

Cas arched his eyebrows in apparent agreement. "Yes, it is unpleasant to be on her bad side."

"Good thing we don't have to worry about that," Sam chuckled. "We'll go in as US Marshalls down here in an unofficial capacity. Let's just hope the cops here like Americans."

"I don't have a false identification badge," Cas pointed out.

"No sweat, Cas. I brought an extra of Dean's. Let's get to Palenque. Twenty minutes and a photo booth and I'll turn you into Deputy US Marshal Bonham."

**~O~**

Three hours later, US Marshals Bonham and Plant were standing in the office of Comisario Alonso, being given what little information was available on the recent killings and disappearances. Sam was surprised to find the young commissioner so cooperative until it was divulged that two of the dead men and three of the missing were American citizens. Apparently American authorities had been informed but not much interest had been taken. Of the five Americans, four had criminal records and the fifth had been living off the grid for over a decade.

To Sam, that suggested they were hunters. Probably came here hunting the El Cadejo… just like Dean.

"We need to narrow down the area," he told the Alonso, spreading his map on the cluttered desk. "Can you show me the exact locations of the killings and where the missing people were last seen?"

Alonso nodded and pointed to a spot on a narrow road deep in the Lacandon Jungle. "We traced most of the missing men to the Lacandon jungle but two of the bodies were found here just a month apart. They weren't killed there though. The bodies were dumped."

Sam jerked his head up. "Dumped? An animal wouldn't dump a body."

Alonso just shrugged. "The third was found here, right at the front gates of Señor Theodorous hacienda." He pointed to a spot along the road even deeper into the jungle. "A local from one of the villages was driving by when Señor Theodorous and his man, Tat K'in, came out to see what the noise was. The American man was already dead but nobody saw anything."

"Tat K'in?" In his line of work, Sam rarely believed in coincidences. "Is that a common name around here?"

Alonso shook his head. "Not particularly."

Cas asked his first question. "Who is Señor Theodorous?"

"He lives in a hacienda deep in the jungle. Keeps to himself. He has money, lots of money, but he does a lot for the local people in the villages through the church so they don't bother him. I hear he's an artist or something."

Sam thanked the commissioner as he folded up his map. Outside, he turned to Cas.

"I hate to do this to you but we need to get to that house in the jungle and nobody's going to drive us there this late. Think you can… you know, zap us there?"

"Of course."

The Earth tilted and before he could suck in a breath, Sam found himself standing on a dirt road in front of a large, iron gate, trees all around blocking out the light of the setting sun.

"This the house?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even as his stomach settled.

Cas nodded. "It is the only house for miles in either direction. Do we sneak in?" He looked upwards and arched an eyebrow. "Scale the wall?"

"You're getting as bad as Dean," Sam laughed. "Let's try the doorbell first. We just want to talk to the guy."

He rang the buzzer on the gatepost and stood still through the responding silence. He rang a second time and a third with still no response. He groaned. "Okay, we scale the wall."

Another tilt and they were standing on the front porch. Cas staggered sideways a couple of steps as Sam got his bearings again.

"A little warning next time," the hunter grumbled.

"Sorry."

"Never mind. But we could've climbed the wall, you know. You need to conserve your mojo in case we need it later when we find them."

Cas didn't reply and Sam looked around to see what had the angel's attention. The railing around the porch was made entirely with marble carvings of snakes. It was nothing short of amazing. Sam whistled quietly.

"It would seem the Comisario was correct," Cas deadpanned. "Señor Theodorous must be an artist."

"A damn good one," Sam breathed. "Explains how he can afford this giant house."

When there was no reply to the doorbell, he picked the lock on the front door and the two of them stepped inside. They wandered through room after room, trying to be as quiet as possible.

"Exactly what are we looking for?" Cas finally asked in a hushed voice. "Do we suspect this man had anything to do with Dean and Tasha's disappearance?"

Sam shrugged. "Not really. But we're low on leads so this is all we have right now. The only body not dumped was found here and this guy's employee, Tat K'in, met Dean and Tash."

"It seems more likely this man just happens to live in the El Cadejo's current hunting ground," Cas offered. "As highly reclusive as this man is reported to be, he might be willing to dump bodies he found nearby in an effort to maintain his privacy."

"Yeah, I know," Sam agreed, giving the angel a friendly shoulder nudge. "See, we'll make a hunter out of you yet, Cas. Just look for anything out of the ordinary or anything that could be related to the supernatur… whoa."

He lost his words when Cas swung a set of mahogany doors open to reveal two marble carvings of mountain lions suspended from the ceiling by cables.

"That is impressive," Cas said flatly.

They made their way through the hallway, which was lined with carvings of various animals, all made from a very pure-looking, almost white marble. Sam was amazed at the level of detail and couldn't help but admire each piece despite the urgency of the mission. The butterflies in the case near the end were so thin and delicate he began to suspect they might actually be fakes. Surely nobody was _that_ good.

"This guy's work is exquisite," he admitted to Cas. "If they were out this way, I hope Tasha got to see this. She would love it."

Cas tilted his head and paused as he reached for the door handle at the far end of the hall. "Just Tasha? You do not think your brother would appreciate the artwork?"

Sam snorted. "Dean's idea of art is glitter on a stripper."

Cas looked like he was about to refute the comment but stopped then gave a simple nod of agreement.

"Essence of Life Gallery." Sam read the sign on the doors before Cas pulled one open. "Sounds intriguing. Can't wait to see what he's got in there."

He couldn't help his sharp intake of breath when he discovered the essence of Life Gallery was sculptures of people. If Theodorous was this talented with animal carvings, Sam was excited to see what he could do with the human form as his muse.

His eyes scanned the room quickly, noticing five or six sculptures placed around the perimeter, interspersed with as many empty bases, and one sculpture in the center of the room. He was about to start on the left when recognition struck him and he gasped out loud as his head spun back around and his gaze fixed on the sculpture in the middle. It looked like... it couldn't be... but wow it sure looked like...

He strode right up to it, his insides twisting and knotting in confusion and trepidation. Cas was right next to him, eyebrows arched in a display of interest and amusement.

"What the Hell...?" was all Sam could mutter when he was close enough to confirm the pair of humans in the middle sculpture looked exactly like Dean and Tasha. The sudden realization they were naked and having sex elicited a strangled cry from his throat and he involuntarily took a sharp step backwards.

"What the Hell...?" he repeated, trying to negotiate the creep factor rising within him to find a rational explanation for this.

"Fascinating," said Cas calmly, his deep voice sounding truly impressed. "The Lovers," he read the sign aloud. "The artist has certainly titled his work aptly."

Sam made a small, noncommittal grunt in reply, finding he couldn't tear his eyes away from the carving no matter how badly he wanted to. 'Dean' was on his knees with 'Tasha' straddling him, the bedsheet tangled around their lower limbs and feet. Tasha was leaning back slightly which, to Sam's extreme discomfort, blatantly exposed her breasts, taut nipples and all. Her expression was disturbingly evident as part-lust and part-love as she looked directly into Dean's gaze with eyes that should by all rights appear blank and emotionless in their whiteness. One of Dean's hands was cupping her face while the other gripped low on her hip, the veins in the bicep of that arm rippling in an astoundingly detailed show of movement. His gaze was equally adoring. Sam didn't dare look down between them to confirm but he was fairly sure from the closeness of their bottom halves that 'Little Dean' was fully sheathed and not visible. Not that that gave him any relief from the extreme awkwardness of staring at a life-size sculpture of his brother having sex.

Cas turned to Sam. "Well this does at least answer the question of whether Señor Theodorous has crossed paths with Dean and Tasha. The likeness is too great to be coincidence and too much to have generated from a photo. He must have spent some time with them to be able to sculpt them to this level of detail."

"Too much detail," Sam managed, trying to keep his eyes on the upper half of the sculpture.

Cas turned to face him. "This is a clue, is it not?"

"Yeah, but..." Sam watched as Cas stepped forward, leaning in to get a closer look at Dean's torso.

"Here is the scar Dean bears where I gripped him to pull him from Hell," the angel stated, sounding curious as he lifted a hand to run his fingers over the handprint-shaped scar on Dean's upper arm. He frowned then and moved his fingers to Dean's chest, feathering them over a series of blemishes in the marble, small spots of color.

"Yeah, that's just all kinds of uncomfortable," Sam muttered from where he watched a few feet back.

"These spots appear too symmetrical to be random. Are they supposed to be scars also?" Cas asked absently. "They look like clawmarks. Dean did not have those when he left for Mexico."

Sam shifted uneasily on his feet. "Uh, I dunno, Cas."

The angel tilted his head sideways as he moved his face in to hover just an inch from where Tasha's hand was draped over Dean's shoulder. "This is remarkable," he exclaimed, one hand resting on the base just inches from Dean's bare ass. "Tasha's ring is so detailed, the Enochian symbols Dean etched into it for her are a perfect match."

Sam cleared his throat. "Dude, can you, you know, not stare quite so close. You're enjoying this a little too much, man. It's kind of creeping me out."

Cas retracted his hand and tilted his head curiously. "This is just a chunk of stone, Sam, carved in the likeness of your brother and Tasha."

"I know that. It's just…"

"Ah. You are uncomfortable because they are fornicating."

"Jesus!" Sam ran his hand through his hair. "No…well, yes but… no, Cas, the handprint, the scars… Theodorous couldn't have known about them unless…"

"Unless he saw them naked."

"Exactly. I mean, Dean's got a few kinks, I'm sure, but posing in the middle of…" he gestured with his hand.

"Fornication," Cas supplied.

Sam shuddered. "Right. Anyway, Dean would never pose naked for the guy. Especially with Tash. So this guy's either got hidden cameras or… or I dunno. Worse. This is creeping me out in... in a way I've never been creeped out before. Not when it comes to Dean."

Cas frowned. "And this still doesn't explain where they are now."

Sam pulled his gun from his jeans, glad to shift his focus off the incredible piece of art that was both beautiful and sickening at the same time. "We're gonna ask Michael-fucking-angelo that question as soon as he gets home."

Cas straightened up and pulled his lips into a slight smirk. "Now who is sounding just like Dean?"

**~O~**

_Sorry about the delay... hope you had as much fun as I did picturing Sam walking in on that, lol. Thanks for reading and please review :)_


	5. Petrified

_**Author's note:**__ It seems almost every time I post I have to apologize for taking so long so I think it is time I face the fact that I just can't manage to write a chapter per week anymore. I will keep trying but I can't promise anything. Next story I will warn readers up front so that I don't feel so bad every time I post. Sorry folks. (In my defense, my chapters are usually between 5000-8000 words so it takes longer to write them than the 1500 word chaps, lol). I do hope to have the next and final chapter up sooner. Please don't let my tardiness keep you from reviewing though :-)_

_Oh and any of you haven't seen Jared's new t-shirt, it's awesome (and he looks super hot both on it and in it, lol). Check out his Twitter (or his new facebook page!) and get yourself one if you can. Proceeds support mental health awareness and suicide prevention etc... An excellent cause IMO._

_**Previously: **__Dean and Tasha are turned to stone by Nikolas Theodorous, an 'artist' who lives deep in the Mexican Jungle and makes marble sculptures with a supernatural power. Sam and Cas come down to Mexico to look for them and find Theodorous's house and see the marble statue of Dean and Tasha (which is aptly called 'the Lovers'). Cas admires the sculpture (a little too closely for Sam's comfort) but Sam finds it invasive is creeped out, as well as growing more and more desperate to find his brother._

**CHAPTER 5 - Petrified**

While waiting for Señor Theodorous to return, Sam and Cas searched the rest of the mansion. Sam noticed an unfamiliar symbol in several places throughout – on the silverware, carved on the high-back dining room chairs, etched on the glass over the main door. Apart from the symbol and the artwork, however, the only thing that stood out was in the largest of the bedrooms, presumably the master. The far wall, bare of furniture, was painted to form one giant mural. The skill and artistry was far inferior to the stone sculptures of Thedorous's collections but it was an impressive work all the same. What stood out to Sam was the Ancient Greece theme; it seemed out of place deep in a Mexican jungle.

"Pegasus and Chrysaor," Cas observed, indicating a white, winged horse and a bearded man, both meeting gruesome deaths at the ends of a golden trident yielded by a young man with a large snake coiled around his body. Cas frowned. "But that's not how they met their deaths. I'm guessing the artist didn't hold much regard for them."

Sam gave his friend a sideways glance. After everything he had seen, he shouldn't find it strange to hear Cas speak of Greek Gods like he knew them personally. Heck, the angel probably did.

"Again with the snake fetish," the hunter said, pointing to the image of a woman standing on a hilltop beyond, her head a mass of writhing, fork-tongued snakes. She was watching the slaying with a look of approval. "That Medusa?"

Cas nodded. "Yes, the Gorgon Priestess. And the trident appears to be…"

He stopped suddenly when a noise sounded near the front of the house.

"That was the front door," Sam declared. "He's home." He strode purposely out into the hall, mentally running through the questions he was going to ask this pervert about Dean and Tasha. He could hear Cas keeping pace behind him and spared a thought of gratitude for the celestial-powered back-up he suspected he and Dean were beginning to take for granted.

They met a man in the foyer who gasped and stopped short at the sight of them. He was an older man in a tidy suit with graying hair and dark green eyes.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" he demanded, recovering quickly and belaying no fear in his tone.

"Where's my brother?" Sam fired back. "Where are Dean and Tasha?"

The man raised an interested eyebrow. "Brother? Dean was your brother?"

"Yeah, and I know he was here," Sam began but Cas cut him off.

"You said 'Dean _was_ your brother'. Why the past tense?"

The man shrugged innocently but Sam noticed he avoided Cas's direct gaze.

"Because he is no longer here," Theodorous said simply. "He _was_ here, you are correct, but he and Natasha left some time ago. I don't know where they are now."

"What were they doing here?" Sam demanded.

"I found them outside. They killed an El Cadejo in the jungle. I was very impressed and your brother was hurt so I invited them in."

"Hurt?"

"Not badly. He and Natasha enjoyed a wonderful meal with me and my servant. They spent the night in one of my guest rooms then Tat K'in drove them to Palenque in the morning. That was… last Tuesday, I believe."

Sam's fists were clenched at his sides. "Did you videotape them, you know… in private?" He had to ask.

Theodorous looked legitimately offended. "Most certainly not. I resent the insinuation. They were guests in my house."

"I saw the sculpture. That's a lot of detail."

Theodorous almost appeared bashful for a second before explaining. "Dean's wounds were from the El Cadejo's claws. A few punctures on his chest. He removed his shirt to allow Natasha to clean the cuts. As an artist, I hold great appreciation for the human form. How shall I put it... your brother inspired me."

Sam ignored the urge to snicker at the comment and how uncomfortable it would make Dean feel when he repeated it to him. However, even though the man's words made sense, the hunter in him wasn't quite convinced. "Tasha's ring…" he began.

Theodorous nodded. "The silver band with the Enochian script. A unique piece. I noticed it and Tasha took it off for a moment to let me admire it closer."

"You are familiar with Enochian?" Cas asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

"No. Natasha explained that it was the language of the angels. She said Dean made the ring for her."

Although his worry was still at full tilt, Sam felt his anger subsiding. Tasha must have trusted this man to have admitted that to him. She wasn't one for sharing personal details. The artist was still avoiding Cas's gaze but that could be chalked up to social awkwardness. The Comisario had mentioned he was a recluse and Cas could be unnerving with that intense stare of his. "That statue…um…" He wasn't sure what to even say on the matter anymore.

"My best work to date," Theodorous stated boldly. "It seemed to me they were very much in love and I tried to capture that. Do you not think I did them justice? "

"No, I do," Sam admitted grudgingly. "Perfectly, actually. But they're kind of private people. Do they know about it?"

Theodorous shook his head. "No. As I said, they left the next morning. I was inspired after they had gone." He smiled. "Please ask them to come and see it when you find them."

"I'm not sure they'll appreciate it, is what I'm trying to say," Sam elaborated.

"On the contrary," Theodorous countered swiftly. "It's a great honor to have your love immortalized in such a manner. "

Sam sighed and gave up the argument forming in his brain. He would defer that decision to Dean… when he found him.

Theodorous must have sensed his guests' hesitation to believe. "Besides, this is a private collection," he added. "Few will ever see it. I very rarely have houseguests, invited or…" he raised an accusing eyebrow, "…otherwise."

Sam ignored the reproachful remark. "Look, we need to find Dean and Tash. Can you find out from this Tat K'in exactly where he dropped them off in Palenque? Maybe they told him where they were going."

"Very well," he agreed. "He is parking the car and will be in shortly." He gave Sam an assessing look up and down. "So you and your brother hunt together?"

Sam nodded.

"I'll bet you make a formidable pair."

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, we've tackled some tough ones and come out on top."

"I had the privilege of seeing Dean and Tasha in action; I can only imagine what you and he could accomplish."

"We make a good team."

The door opened behind them and a Mexican man came in, eyes widening when he saw the strangers in the lobby. "El Señor Nikolas!" he exclaimed, immediately adopting a protective stance in front of his boss.

Theodorous raised a hand to calm the newcomer. "Tat K'in, este es el hermano de Dean, um… I'm afraid I didn't catch your names."

"I'm Sam, this is Cas," Sam supplied. "Ask him where he dropped off Dean and Tash."

"I can do better than that," Theodorous offered. "I shall instruct him to drive you to the exact place."

**~O~**

Dean has a fleeting notion it isn't his memory but it's real enough he forgets that suspicion almost immediately. He shuffles out of the back bedroom in the small apartment, dragging her feet and wiping her bleary eyes with the heel of her hand. She hates mornings and really, really wants to spend another two hours in bed but the smell emanating from the kitchen is just too enticing to ignore.

She finds Dad sitting at the table with a steaming coffee mug grasped tightly in one hand, pouring over the newspaper as he always did, his blond bangs hanging over his downcast eyes. He looks up as she enters and a broad grin appears on his face.

"You're up early sweetheart. How's the birthday girl?"

"Tired," she answers with a drowsy smile.

"That's what you get for staying up half the night watching movies on HBO," Dad says, his cheerful laugh void of even the slightest trace of sympathy. He slides his chair back and heads over to the kitchen counter. "You hungry?"

"Somethin' sure smells good."

"Well, since it's such a special occasion, I'm making waffles."

Her eyes light up. "Oooh! Yes!" Dad makes the best waffles _ever_.

"Not every day my little girl turns thirteen," Dad grins back. He then rolls his blue eyes exaggeratedly before turning back to the waffle-maker on the counter. "Oh my God, my child is a teenager," he groans in mock horror.

She giggles and sits down, helping herself to a sip from Dad's abandoned mug on the table. She immediately screws up her face, cursing herself for forgetting how much sugar Dad takes. It tastes like liquefied coffee-flavored cotton candy.

_Wait... Dad doesn't take sugar at all... does he?_

"So that means you're gonna teach me how to drive the truck, right?" she says, unable to hide her eagerness.

Dad laughs. "If your feet can reach the pedals, sweetheart. That was the deal."

"I should start calling you Brian instead of Dad, now that we're both adults and equals."

"You'll be calling me Mr. Malick if you keep up the cheek," he warns playfully. "Or sir."

She snorts. Like she would ever call Dad 'sir'.

"And you have to let me go on the next hunt," she says, listing another way things are going to change now that she's officially a teenager.

"Now that one depends on the hunt. I said I'd let you help with a salt-and-burn, not take down a Wendigo or a vamp nest." He gives her a teasing look. "That means helping dig up the grave too, you realize."

She nods enthusiastically. Helping is helping. She just wants to know what it's like to actually be a hunter... _Hold on, she's thirteen, she's already helped out with dozens of grave digs by thirteen... hasn't she?... Wait... he... not she... he 's Dean… Dean Winchester... isn't he?_

The flicker of confusion disappears when Dad pulls the can of whipped cream from the fridge along with a heaping bowl of strawberries. _Yes! Dad was the best!_ She grins to herself as she forms her next sentence, waiting until he has the hot waffle balanced on a fork on its way to the plate.

"And now that I'm thirteen I get to date boys, right?"

The waffle topples off the fork and skates right over the plate, landing on the floor with a small slap. Dad's head jerks up, eyes wide with what looks like sheer panic. "Wh-what?" he stammers. "I never said anything about boys. Or dating."

She giggles as her father stoops to pick up the waffle. "Yes you did. You said I could have sleepovers with boys when I turned thirteen." She loves how flustered Dad gets every time she mentions boys these days. It had started a few months ago when she had asked him to take her bra shopping and his eyes had almost popped out of his head. She had been using it for her amusement and entertainment ever since. "The landlady said I should start taking something called the pill. You know, since I'm a woman now."

An uncomfortable cough sounds then Dad shakes his head, finally recovering. "Nice try, young lady. And just so you know, if I catch that Dave boy from upstairs sniffing around here again, I will shoot him this time."

She giggles furiously as Dad brushes off her waffle and drops it on the plate. He hands it over to her along with the whipped cream and strawberries then leans in to plant a small kiss on the top of her head.

"So, sweetheart, what do you want to do today?"

She shrugs and shakes the can. "I dunno."

"It's your big day so we can do whatever you want. I was thinking Six Flags. You want to...?"

"Yeth!" she exclaims through a mouthful of whipped cream. She loves Six Flags. _Wait... no, she hates Six Flags, doesn't she? _ _Last time he was there, Sam got lost in the crowd... wait, Sam? She doesn't know any Sam... _

He blinks and the bright, roomy kitchen is suddenly a dingy motel kitchenette, the white tiles now a dull, grey carpet. He twists to see Sam sitting up against the headboard in the bed they shared, the generic lily-pad picture hanging crookedly on the wall above him.

"What's for breakfast?" the kid asks, wiping sleep-filled eyes.

Before Dean can answer, John Winchester's voice sounds sharply from behind him.

"We'll hit a drive-thru on the way. Move it, Sammy. We needed to be on the road half an hour ago."

"But it's Dean's birthday," Sam protests. "He turns into a teenager today."

Dean turns to see Dad's shoulders sag slightly and he knows right away the man had forgotten again. He's given a brief look of guilt or sadness, he's not sure which, before Dad's tired and determined expression returns.

"We'll stop at Denny's for supper," Dad offers, shouldering his duffel. "Extra pie all 'round. C'mon boys, get moving. I want you outside in five."

With that he leaves the room, the door swinging closed behind him. Dean swallows, struggling to keep the hurt from showing in his face, and starts over towards the side table where his own duffel lies open looking like it's puking up a pile of dirty, worn denim and plaid. Halfway there, however, he is tackled as Sam throws his arms around him from where he's kneeling on the bed. Dean grunts at both the impact and the surprise.

"Dude, you're squishing me," he gasps, unable to keep the smile from forming on his face.

"Happy birthday, Dean!" Sam cries loudly in his ear, not loosening his hold in the slightest.

Dean chuckles and runs a hand through Sam's messy bedhair, the pain of Dad's dismissal waning quickly. "Thanks Sammy."

God, he loves his little brother so frigging much.

**~O~**

Tat K'in dropped Sam and Cas off on a street corner near the middle of Palenque, insisting this was where he left Dean and Tasha over a week ago. It wasn't near any bus depots or tourist attractions and asking around at the nearby stores, hotels, and bars uncovered no new leads. By midnight the second night, Sam dropped heavily into the uncomfortable plastic chair in their hotel room, a dive with two twin beds that gave the term 'roach motel' a whole new meaning – a very literal one.

"I don't get it," he sighed. "Dean ganks an El Cadejo, what's the first thing he does?"

Cas gave him a thoughtful look. "Eat pie and drink beer to celebrate?" he replied sincerely.

Sam chuckled. "No. Well, yes, but he also calls me to brag. I know him, Cas. Me and him, we're doing really well right now, relationship-wise, I mean. He's forgiven me for the demon-blood thing and letting Lucifer topside and Ruby and all the stuff I did soulless. We're getting along better than we have in years. He'd have been so excited to make that kill. He would have called me."

"There was no cell phone reception in the jungle at Theodorous's house," Cas pointed out.

"He would have called the next day, once he reached Palenque, as soon as he was out of the jungle."

"Unless he never got out of the jungle."

Sam felt his chest tighten and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on knees. "That's what worries me."

"You believe Theodorous was lying." Cas didn't phrase it as a question.

"Didn't he seem…?" Sam searched for the right words. "I don't know. Something was off about him."

Cas frowned. "I couldn't read him."

"Like read his mind?"

"No, I haven't been able to do that at all since my grace was damaged last month by Eve. But I can usually detect something. A sense of humanity or strong emotions. Like how I can tell if someone is human or possessed by demon or angel."

Sam jumped to his feet. "Why didn't you say something? And what does that mean, exactly?"

Cas shrugged, his usual calm demeanor unwavering. "It's not the first time in recent weeks I've sensed nothing from people, ordinary people. My angel abilities are limited now, remember. Some are weakened, some are gone altogether, and some come and go. It might not mean anything."

"But it might mean everything," Sam countered. "And right now Theodorous is our only lead so I'm betting it does. I got a bad feeling from him." He hauled out his laptop and laid it on the table, pulling the plastic chair up in front of it. "Let's hope this dump's wifi isn't down again," he muttered as it booted up. "What was on that mural in the bedroom again, Cas? Every other piece of art in that house depicted something local, except the Dean and Tash sculpture obviously. A scene from ancient Greece in the land of the ancient Mayans has to be significant. Let's start there."

**~O~**

"_Are you sure it was wise to let them go, El Señor?"_

"_We weren't prepared to take on an angel, Tat."_

"_You're sure that's what he was? Why would an angel be traveling with a human hunter?" _

"_Yes, he was definitely an angel. The few shields we have in place barely blocked my true identity." Nikolas frowned in thought. "He must be a low-ranking angel not to have been able to push past them and figure out who and what I am though. The host of Heaven have always hated my kind, arguing with their boundless conceit that their God is the only true one. He could be dangerous. I needed to buy us some time, my friend. That is why I sent you away with them." He clasped his servant's shoulder in an encouraging manner. "Don't worry; they'll be back. And this time, we'll be ready." An eager smile spread across his face. "I will have the second Winchester also. Did you see him, Tat K'in? Even more magnificent than the first. He will take the place originally intended for his brother."_

**~O~**

He can hear everything around him - he just can't open his eyes.

"Dean? Dean? Answer me, son!"

Dad's voice sounds scared. Crap, why can't he open his eyes? Or move? Or feel anything? _Get it together, Dean! Stop being a pussy. Dad could be in trouble. Get up!_

Attempts to regain control of his motor functions just aren't working. Damnit, he's letting Dad down. He should have anticipated the second Catoblepas. They had found two different shades of fur in that cave, after all. _So stupid._ He braces himself, waits for the scolding.

"Dean, son, please," Dad chokes from somewhere above him.

Shit, Dad sounds really scared. He must look pretty bad - is he bleeding? Oh crap, that thing breathed on him. Catoblepas breath is poisonous. Is he gonna die? Here? In some putrid cave up a freezing cold mountain? Leaving Dad alone? Leaving Sam alone? He hasn't even heard from Sam since the kid ran off to Stanford almost a month ago... he doesn't want to die... he doesn't want to leave things like this.

"Fight it!" his Dad's voice is commanding him and he sounds more panicky than angry. Dean's never heard Dad panic before. He wishes he could answer but he gets no response from his own body when he tries.

"Son, you have to fight the poison. It'll only last a minute or two but if you can fight it... you can't let it pull you under. Please, son. Please."

There's a pause and Dean thinks he feels arms around him, something soft against his cheek.

"I can't lose you, Dean," he hears, Dad's voice but a whisper now. "Please, not you. I'm doing this all for you. You and Sammy. Don't you see that? You can't die."

He wants to answer, wants to tell his Dad everything will be alright, but he can't move. His sense of touch is slowly coming back though and he feels his Dad start to shudder around him, choking sobs sounding in his ear.

"I'm sorry, Dean. You deserve better than this, better than me. I'm so proud of you. I love you, son."

Its words he's always wanted to hear but now that Dad's saying them, he doesn't know how to respond. But he must really be dying or Dad wouldn't have said them. He hears a soft moan and it takes him a few seconds to realize the sound came from him.

"Dean? Dean?" He feels fingers at his neck, pressing, prodding, and blurry lights begin to appear in his peripheral. But more than that, he hears so much hope and relief in his Dad's voice that it's enough to form a lump in his throat.

He opens her eyes to see Dean smiling down at her as he draws back from the kiss, that cocky 'oh-yeah-I know-what-I-do-to-you' smile. _Good Lord he's so fucking gorgeous it's almost unreal. _ She feels like she should pinch herself sometimes, make sure some Djinn isn't putting the whammy on her because someone so good-looking shouldn't theoretically exist. Not naturally, anyway.

She curls her fingers around the back of his neck and draws him back down for more, feeling her knees literally weaken when his tongue once again finds hers.

And how can someone so hot be so fucking brave and heroic and loyal and a million other things she finds admirable? Sure there was the smelly socks and the tyrannical rule over the car radio and the infuriating self-blame thing, but Jesus, no human being should be this perfect.

His hands are making their way under her cotton top now, sliding up the curve of her waist. "We got about twenty minutes 'fore Sam gets back," he breathes into her mouth.

His words are muffled but she understands and a jolt of excitement runs through her body at what he's offering. She finds herself nodding and reaching for the button on his jeans, her tongue still tangled with his.

And he's with _her_. That's the most unbelievable part of it all. Somehow this perfect guy loves her as much as she loves him. That's some fairy-tale shit right there.

**~O~**

By morning, Sam and Cas had figured it out. The young hunter spent the entire night in front of his laptop and on the phone with Bobby, the pair of them using Cas's wealth of knowledge to fill in whatever blanks research left out.

They finally discovered the symbol he and Cas had seen throughout Theodorous's house represented the Gorgons of ancient Greece. Medusa, from the mural on the bedroom wall, was one of three Gorgon sisters so they concentrated on finding out everything they could about her.

Medusa had two sons, Pegasus and Chrysaor, both of whom were shown getting skewered by a man with a snake and a trident in the mural. Cas informed Sam they had died on separate crusades under different circumstances. He also noted he had heard tell of a third child of Medusa.

"Nothing we got anywhere mentions a third kid," Sam frowned.

Cas shrugged. "We angels didn't pay much attention to the lesser deities who claimed themselves as gods except for the occasional smiting," he admitted. "I am especially not familiar with their convoluted family trees but I do remember hearing that Poseidon once raped Medusa, which angered his wife, the goddess Athena. She blamed Medusa for her husband's betrayal – yes, the gods were that misguided – and Medusa hid for a long time, in fear for her life and her unborn child's."

"What was the child's name?" asked Sam, seeing the puzzle pieces falling into place.

Cas shrugged again. "I don't know. Athena swore she would not allow the child to live so Medusa sent it away right after it was born. I never heard anything more about it. Her other two sons, Pegasus and Chrysaor, were both considered champions and heroes but Medusa was vilified and Perseus chopped her head off a few decades later."

Sam's forehead creased in thought. "Think Theodorous could be this missing kid? I mean, he's got a Greek name. The Gorgon symbol's all over his house. Seems feasible he'd harbor some resentment towards his brothers who got to stick around and become champions while he got sent away. The guy killing them with the trident in the mural did kind of look like him. You said his father was Poseidon? God of the sea, right? The one who carried a trident?"

Cas nodded. "Correct. Only he is still alive and still carries it so you should use the present tense."

Sam ignored the correction. "Medusa is Theodorous's mother..." he contemplated out loud. "It fits with his obvious obsession with snakes."

"He would be immortal if his father was Poseidon," Cas continued. "Medusa could turn someone to stone if they caught her direct gaze." Both his and Sam's eyes widened when realization struck them at the same time.

"He can turn things to stone, just like his mother!" Sam gasped, the suspected truth almost too terrifying to acknowledge. "Of course! A sculpture like the Dean and Tash one would take weeks if not months to carve, Cas! You have to rough it out, chisel it finer and finer, then sand it finer and finer, then polish it. No way he did that in a week!"

The look on Cas's face belied more fear than Sam remembered ever seeing him demonstrate. "The sculpture isn't _of_ Dean and Tash…" the angel choked out.

Sam was on his feet already, making a grab for his weapons bag. "The sculpture _is_ Dean and Tash!"

**~O~**

The owner of the Daihatsu Sam rented would have thrown a fit if he had seen the speed at which Sam tore along the jungle road back to Theodorous's house. He and Cas had decided to save the angel's limited mojo and go back to the house the traditional way, despite the two hours it would delay their rescue. Having no idea the strength of the demi-god they were about to face meant it was possible Cas wouldn't be able to take him out so he may need every ounce of celestial power he could muster. Sam's attack, if needed, would depend entirely on the element of surprise; Theodorous couldn't see the evergreen stake coming. Cas had placed some wards on Sam's ribcage that he thought might protect the hunter against Gorgon magic but hadn't been convinced they would block all of the it, if any at all.

In fact, the only thing giving Sam an ounce of comfort right then was Cas's insistence that he would know if Dean and Tasha were dead and their souls had been released to Heaven. That meant they were still alive. That meant their souls were still inside them, buried inside the chunk of stone. Which Cas was convinced meant that when they killed Theodorous, the transformation would be reversed.

Sam wished he could feel as confident about that as his friend but his insides were twisted up in knots with worry. Cas hadn't been as optimistic about the condition the pair would be in if and when they did turn them back. He had surmised that the longer the person or animal had been petrified, the more dramatic and permanent the damage would be. Dean and Tasha had been a hunk of marble for almost two weeks.

Whatever the outcome for them, the sick son of a bitch that put them there was dying today.

He let Cas out of the car a hundred yards down the road. The plan was for Sam to approach and talk his way back inside to distract Theodorous while Cas slipped in some other way. Cas would then try to take the demi-god out, with Sam on hand to help and drive his evergreen stake home should the angel find himself outmatched.

There was an intercom at the gate and talking his way inside under the guise of having accidentally left his cell phone here proved to be easier than anticipated. Tat K'in appeared to unwrap the chain from the gates and swing one of them open wide enough for Sam's rented truck to squeeze through. The servant halted him with a lift of his hand then hopped in the passenger seat and gestured for him to drive towards the house.

"Has venido solo?" Tat K'in asked.

"Yeah, just me today," Sam lied in answer to the question. "Cas is back in Palenque."

Theodorous met him at the door, all smiles and welcoming pleasantries. "Come in, come in, Sam. So nice to see you again. Any luck in finding your brother?"

"Not yet but some leads look promising. Listen, sorry to bother you again. I know you like your privacy."

"Not a problem," his host dismissed graciously. "You said you left your cell phone here?"

Sam nodded. "I think I dropped it in the sculpture room by the piece you made of Dean and Tash. You uh, mind if we go check in there?" He wanted to be near his brother and Tasha when they took out Theodorous, just in case something was wrong with either of them when they *hopefully* transformed back.

"Certainly. Right this way, my friend."

As Theodorous led the way towards his Essence of Life Gallery, through the long hall of animals, Sam fingered the evergreen stake beneath his jacket nervously. A god was a dangerous enemy and there was a lot riding on taking this one down. He was tempted to just go for it but knew the wiser move would be to give Cas enough time to get inside.

They reached the jaguar at the end of the hall and Theodrous swung open one of the mahogany doors to the next gallery. Sam swallowed when he caught sight of the centerpiece, a jolt of fear ripping through him. He supposed that if Dean was going to get stuck somewhere for eternity, where he was in the sculpture would probably be one of his top three choices. Definitely not on display complete with title, brass plaque, and overhead lighting, but in an intimate moment with the woman he loved.

He drew a deep breath and stepped into the room. Dean wasn't going to get stuck this way so it didn't matter. He just had to pretend to look for his cell phone until Cas showed up.

Distracted by the eerie sight of his naked brother having sex up ahead, he hadn't noticed the movement next to him as he passed through the doorway. In fact, it wasn't until he heard a low, throaty growl that he tensed up and spun around.

The jaguar was a few feet behind him, on the floor and very much alive. Its yellow eyes never left his as it paced back and forth in front of the mahogany doors.

Sam froze. "Oh shit," he breathed, slowly reaching behind him for the Glock tucked in his waistband. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was telling himself that if the Jaguar could come back to life, then Thedorous's spell was most definitely reversible and this was a good sign. But mostly he was picturing himself getting mauled by a giant jungle cat.

"It's just scared," he reasoned, unaware he was speaking out loud.

"Oh no," Theodorous chuckled insidiously. "It's starving."

**~O~**

Cas made his way on foot around the wall of the property until he was at the very back, the farthest point from the road and the side of the house with no windows. Sneaking up on a god wouldn't be easy but he was confident Sam would keep Theodorous distracted. He drew upon his mojo to transport himself the few feet to the inside of the wall, certain such a small use of his power would not alert the enemy inside, but was confused to find it didn't work. Something was blocking him.

He stepped around to another part of the wall and tried again but still with no luck. He reached out with his mind, probing to find out what was blocking him and was shocked to find there were wards all around the property. Full-on anti-angel wards. They hadn't been there the last time which could only mean one thing… Theodorous knew Cas was an angel.

And he knew Cas was coming.

And he had welcomed Sam inside… alone.

**~O~**

_**A/N:** Next chap is the final chap with all the excitement that didn't make it into this chap, lol. Thanks for reading and hope you are enjoying :)_


End file.
